


Balance in Another Plane

by Pistol_the_Dimension_Hopper



Series: Sedum and Rose [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Blood, Confusing, Dogs, Drinking, Gen, Randomness, Robots, Terrible Jokes, Weapons, guinea pigs, injuries, really terrible jokes, warnings of a competent Mary-Sue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-18 12:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14852642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pistol_the_Dimension_Hopper/pseuds/Pistol_the_Dimension_Hopper
Summary: Chrys wasn't a hundred percent sure how she wound up in a separate universe, nor was she certain quite where she was until she'd woken up in a hospital after a mission gone sideways. Now, stuck in an alternate reality with a television show on repeat in her sleep and a good number of questions, Chrys knows it's time to either make it or break it.orThe second Jordan to wind up ass over head in an alternate reality, with a talking robot dog as her companion.





	1. Seadog

Waking up from the pull of a medicated coma was becoming an increasingly irritating way to greet her mornings.. Her head pounded, and her bones felt like fragile porcelain encased in jello. Her tongue was heavy and thick in her mouth, completely dry as she struggled to breath against the oppressing weight against her chest.

“Well, would you look at that. Waking up already?”

Her fingers twitched, along with her legs, and the woman, lied out along what felt like a hospital-issued bed, was left prying open her eyes at the sound of a soft, amused chuckle.

Most likely at her expense.

_ The irritation to that stray thought was enough to give her the energy to look up and glare at the person above her. _

“Wh..ere..?”

Her throat was drier than the Sahara, the rasp barely passing her lips before she had given up trying to talk. Instead, she focused her attention on the person perched on the bed beside her, looking nothing if not extraordinarily plainfaced, wearing a simple white button-up shirt, black dress coat and black slacks. She couldn’t see his shoes from her vantage point, but he had slicked back brown hair and simple features.

“You’re in Washington DC,” the man smiled, looking totally relaxed as he took in the sudden flicker of confusion on the woman’s face, before it shifted to shock, then unbridled panic. However, she dare not make a sound. 

He had the ability to smother her and her vocal cords would have been nothing to help her. She pissed people off enough to warrant murder on a  _ good _ day.. She wasn’t ready to test that when she was so..

_ Vulnerable.. _

“Where..?” she asked again.

“Hospital,” he smiled, “Nice try, by the way.. You  _ almost _ made it..”

“Why.. here..?”

“Well, for your protection of course,” he grinned, flashing his perfectly straight and clean teeth before nodding toward her elevated foot, stuck in a cast, her left arm in a cast and sling and her right hooked up to a good number of machines. She had breathing tubes in her nose, wanting to make her gag, but the rest of her body was stiff and ignoring her pleas to sock this son of a bitch to next Sunday.

_ How dare he-?! _

“Not every day you get a tip from some Marine wannabe about one of the biggest attacks in all of terrorism history..”

“Get me.. Out of here..” she hissed.

“No can do,” he shook his head. “Some head honchos want to talk to you, mainly because they want to know who you’re working for.. Why you’re information isn’t checking out, where you got your ID and how the hell you knew where to go..”

“Go.. away,” she hissed.

“That, I can do,” he nodded, brushing off his suit before he moved to get to the door, pausing halfway out, however, he sent her a debonair smile, “That is, of course, we have you on surveillance right now, the boss will be in in a few days to talk to you.. And I don’t think you’re gonna be able to move an inch with all that morphine in you..”

The woman gave a slight snarl of her lips, unable to actually say anything, and the man, stone-faced, but grimly smiling, left the room.

She let her head fall back heavily on the pillow, and she twitched around her fingers. Her father’s dog tags were gone..  _ Fuck.. _

* * *

She spent days getting coddled by nurses, force fed and changed bedpans, the worst of the experience, in her opinion, before someone had finally forced themselves into her room after a heated argument with her doctor.

“She isn’t stable enough for one of your interrogations, Mister Fornell, I assure you-!”

“I’m not looking for your opinion, Doctor Wallace, I want that girl, and I want her now. She’s under United States Federal Custody, and we can take her with, or without your permission. With your permission gives her a better chance of surviving the ride home, provided you give us the proper instructions to keep her alive on the ride back.”

She couldn’t hear the rest of the argument, but she managed to maneuver her “good” hand to the edge of the bed, pressing the button to push the seat up so she was upright. Her body throbbed with a dull ache, as if she were hit by a car, but the pain had dramatically lessened since her first day there. 

She would even wager a guess that the cuts on her face were completely healed now if the doctor’s exasperated and stupefied declaration of her ‘incredible healing rate’ was anything to go by.

He’d estimated, if she were to ever get back on her feet again, she would be up and walking in a matter of weeks. Eight or so to be exact.

Not too bad for a leg broken in three places and two bullets shot inside it..

One managed to get into her arm..

The door was open during her musings, and she blinked quickly when a man clearly older than fifty, with a bald head, and beady, unhappy eyes waltzed in with two plain-faced lackies similar to the ones that would take up guard during the day in her room. The one she had seen the first time had been immediately dismissed by one of the door guards after they’d heard talking, and she hadn’t seen him since. 

Probably because he thought  _ she _ was the problem, and was taking out his frustration on a possible suspect.

Whatever, not her problem anymore.

“I see you’re awake,” the eerily familiar man gave her a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He waltzed over to the side of her bed, looking over her injuries before pulling a chair over from the window, one that didn’t open, and turning it around so he could kneel on either side of it. “That’s good. Make’s my job easier. Now.. why don’t we start with your name?”

“I don’t..” she rapsed, cleared her throat, then tried again, “I don’t know.. What you want me to say..”

“Something a little more believable, if you wouldn’t mind,” he grinned sardonically, reaching up a hand to scratch his nose before settling back in. “The “name”,” he actually air-quoted the word for her to see, “that you gave the nurses who helped you isn’t exactly a smart alias. A bit too eye catching.”

“What’s yours?” she asked calmly.

“My name?” he repeated, playfully surprised, before he gave her a glare, and an honest, anger-fueled smile, “It’s Fornell.. Tobias Fornell.”

_ Fuck.. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck- _

Her heart monitor was pistoning at an alarming speed, and Fornell’s eyes seemed to jump to the screen before sliding back to her strangely mixed hazel eyes. They were wide, and staring at him in stunned, still silence. She hadn’t moved, but the increased rate of her heart was getting dangerous, before it stuttered, and her eyes slipped shut. “Shit- get a doctor in here-!” he roared.

“On it-!”

“Shit,” he muttered, watching as several doctors and nurses barged in, pushing him back as they got to work assessing, and looking over the woman as she started to lose the rhythm of her heart.

_ Not good. _

* * *

“Name?”

“Chrysanthemum Larkspur Jordan.”

“...Chrysan-”

“Just call Chrys,” the woman muttered, cutting off the aging man that stood in front of her. It wasn’t Fornell, thank god. But it was someone she else she knew.. The dogtags on the table were testament to that. Well, that and the military grade knife with her grandfather’s name engraved in the blade.

“Miss.. Jordan,” the man continued, looking her over, from the bandages around her head and the cast around her arm and leg, to the other in a boot used for harsh sprains. “Why exactly did you ask for me?”

“Because,” she sniffed, lifting her eyes from the table and bringing them to his own, dark ones. “I know I can trust you.”

“And why is that?” he asked calmly. The mirror behind him showed his back, but she knew there were a good number of people behind it. Including one seething, angry Fornell she had brushed off. 

“Because,” she smiled then, a weak one, but it was honest as she met his eyes, “You lead NCIS don’t you..?”

“Yes,” he nodded, taking a seat across from her when she had smiled, folding his arms across the table, “Now.. why don’t you tell me why you asked for me..?”

“Because I can trust you,” she repeated calmly, “You and your team.”

“My team?” he repeated, “And why is that?”

“Because you have Gibbs, don’t you,” a gleam of amusement touched her eyes, and she glanced down her her broken appendages, before giving a sardonic smile, “I can trust him too. You are the good guys..”

“And Fornell isn’t?” he spoke slowly, and clearly, but she only laughed, breathy and annoyed. “Nah, no. I didn’t say that. Fornell is a good guy. He just.. Doesn’t sit right with me.. I personally find him annoying, for one, and invasive for another. I can deal with one alpha dog at a time, and if I had to take a pick, it’d be Gibbs at the top of the food chain.”

“How do you know agent Gibbs?” Morrow continued.

“Can’t tell ya’ that,” she smiled.

“And why not?”

“Because,” she ginned, “You won’t believe me. Or, you will, and I’ll be put into an intensive torture, no-holds-barred situation where I will never see the light of day again.”

“We just had the president of the United States nearly assassinated on a backup charter,” Morrow spoke slowly, “If you know anything about that..”

“I know a lot of things,” she smiled, “All of which I’ll be willing to share in a room with you, and only you. It’s not exactly believable.”

“Try me,” he murmured.

She smiled, but stayed quiet.


	2. Chapter 2

“What else could you possibly want?” he asked several minutes later, he had left her alone in the room to most likely talk with the people behind the glass. “Besides alone time with me?”

“I wanna join NCIS,” she smiled. 

“You’re kidding,” he scoffed.

She was silent, and didn’t move.

“You’re not kidding,” he murmured.

“Nope,” she grinned. “I’m handy with a screwdriver.. A tech expert, if you want to be technical about it.. I wanna work on Gibb’s team.”

“Why that specific team?” he demanded slowly.

“Because,” she smiled, then stopped, and raised an eyebrow, “Are the camera’s off?”

“And audio,” he nodded, not looking pleased.

“I hope you’re not lying,” she sighed, then brought her good hand up, covering her mouth from view. “I want to join Gibb’s team, because I can sometimes see the future.”

Morrow didn’t say a word, merely watched her in silence for several minutes, before he shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“I will give you the exact location of the man who did nine eleven if you get me onto Gibb’s team.”

Morrow stared at her, seeing the way she was still covering her mouth, and shook his head, running his hands over his face. “What does that have to do with Gibb’s team, if you “sometimes see the future”..?”

“Because,” she shrugged, “What future I see, puts Caitlin Todd on his team. And every more intricate case he has after that.”

“Define intricate.”

“Motive to murder, possible drama, shit ton more murder, lot of serial cases..”

“What’s their next big case, then?”

“Considering the day?” she raised her eyebrow, then tilted back her head, closing her eyes, “That would be.. A marine will fall through an SUV during a night jump after his chute doesn’t open.. But it’s not the fall that kills him..”

“What does?” he demands.

“You got the case yet?” she asked.

“Doesn’t matter if I do or don’t,” he disagreed. “If you know something like that will or has happened, I need to know what kills him.”

“It’s still an ongoing case, isn’t it?” she murmured. She smiled then, and let out a sigh, throwing her hand out in a wave before giving him a smile, “Let me out of here and I’ll book him for you.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Then talk to someone who can,” she encouraged him, “I want to help. I can’t do that in the FBI. I promised you Bin Laden’s head if you let me do this. I just need to set up shop.”

“How can I trust you?”

“Well I’m not a terrorist,” she pointed out, “Or I would have  _ helped  _ kill the president. Camera should show that I was on that plane  _ because  _ I was tailing the reporter who tried.”

“And you swiped a gun from the cabinet and shot him  _ before  _ Agent Gibbs,” Marrow continued. “You could be a double agent.”

“I’m not that good of an actress,” she chuckled, shaking her head, “No, I prefer sitting behind a screen more than legwork, but.. If I can help some families, by all means, please let me..”

“Fornell isn’t going to like this,” he murmured, “It’s going to be hell for me, and you..”

“Well,” she murmured, giving him a slight smile, “Tell Gibbs it’s not the guy with the evidence in his locker, and that he should take a bit of the closer look at the guy with weed in his background..”

“If you’re wrong-” he stopped, then sighed, then tilted his head. “If you’re  _ right _ .. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Pleasure doing business with you mister Morrow,” she nodded, “Now can I get relocated back to my prison-room slash hospital-room? My leg aches like a son of a bitch. The asshole was lucky he missed an artery.”

* * *

“Freedom, sweet freedom,” Chrys grinned, breathing in deeply as they exit the FBI temporary base and grinning as the light hit her pale, rather gaunt face. She hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks. It took another week and a half after she’d given the details on the parachute murder for Morrow to get custody, and even then, she’d had to weasel her way out of probation with Fornell and his directors after giving a slight demonstration of her “computer abilities.”

More like whatever the hell downloaded itself into her brain after she’d got dropped off in the middle of fucking nowhere in nineteen ninety six. She was dropped with her laptop, phone, chargers, ipod.. All of her toys and a suitcase of clothes.. 

It felt like the beginning of a terrible fanfiction..

Not to mention she knew how to hack now..

Which, in itself, was creepy in a self-discovery sort of way..

That and she had the urge to build robots..

Like she had been doing for three years..

Seeing as her debit card  _ mercifully _ worked, and that her father’s life insurance went to her alone, she was rather comfortable. She’d bought a small, one bed and bath apartment, paid every rent on time, kept her nose spotless.

She didn’t drive, in case she got a ticket, stuck to busses and taxis, and only paid cash.

She was lucky the people of Washington never worked her over for a real address, or they would have gone through a lot of stuff they shouldn’t..

And now, she was to be escorted to her home, given three hours to pack up what she needed, and brought back to Washington DC for a tour of the base, and given a home to herself.

The fact that she helped save the president kind of put a good note into the books, so there was a bit of splurging done there..

Fornell hated her guts, but so did every other FBI servicemen she’d come into contact with, so.. Whatever. She didn’t care.

She just wanted to work on her robots again.

The first one she ever made, and the milestone of what she could do, she based it off of one of her favorite video games.

“I’m home~!” she called, grinning at the rather robotic bark that followed her call as a small, fluffy dog came barreling around the corner of the wall that seperated the kitchen from the lounge, bounding up to her and the two agents behind her. They jumped a bit at the sound, their hands lowering from their guns as they looked around the apartment. Everything was near spotless, except for the couch, with the table in front of the mess of pillows and blankets loaded with laptops, screens, pens and papers.

“Ren, baby,” she giggled, struggling to move her crutch so she could awkwardly lean down, and scoop him up into her arms, “My sweet baby, I missed you. I’m so sorry I was away. I got shot a few times, but I’m perfectly fine.”

There was a whining sound, and she took notice of his ears falling back, before she smiled, and pecked his forehead, “Oh, it’s okay. I’m back now. And these two here are going to pack up my stuff. I want you to watch mister buzz cut here while he packs my clothes, okay?”

“Excuse me,” Mr. Buzzcut, who’s been introduced as Allen, looked a little offended, and very confused. “I’m sorry, but.. The dog’s going to watch me..?”

“I have three hours to do all this before the flight,” she gave both men a frown, “Now I’m sure Fornell gave you a head’s up on my attitude and my situation, and I’m taking a shot in the dark, and light, to see you two clearly already dislike me, just from what you’ve heard. So I’ll give you a heads up for  _ your own _ sake. My dog is a robot, I build robots, and if I get back to Washington with a single item of equipment, or clothes missing, I am going to bring hell upon the FBI. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” the second man nodded, looking a tad bit chastised, while the other merely nodded. “Good,” she grinned, “Because, and I say this for your benefit, my robots aren’t all put together yet.”

“Robots, mam.” Allen stepped inside as she hobbled toward her kitchen. Everything would likely be thrown out, but she would save the candy and the cereal. “Yep,” she grunted, tipping back a bit to unwrap a Snickers bar in their line of sight, “Mostly just skeletons. Put them in boxes lined with foam and filled with packing peanuts. I’ll watch over you for that process. My clothes, shoes and purses aren’t nearly as important, just throw those in bags. I’ll have all my feminine hygiene products in a separate bag, and the last will have my sheets, pillows towels and blankets. Any questions?”

“No ma’am.”

“Great, now let’s hurry.”

* * *

“Wow,” Chrys murmured, clutching her navy blue dog closer to her chest as she eyed the bustling coming and goings of the inside of the building. Visitors went to the left side, and workers to the right. She bit her lip, glancing down at her bright green cast, showing off the toes of her skull-print purple socks on her right foot, and her left foot clad in a heavy duty black combat boot. Her walking crutch under her right arm and her dog in her left, she battled the urge to wince at the pain pinching her right arm. The bullet had gone clean through, but it was still a lot of muscle damage. She was lucky she was healing and not missing an arm.

Her backpack was heavy, but manageable, and her messenger bag hit her hip in a rhythmic, teasing way as she hobbled up to the security guard. “Excuse me, sir?”

He looked up from his clipboard briefly when the flow of visitors seemed to taper off, his eyebrow hitching up as he looked over the battered woman. “Yes Ma’am?”

“I work here, I guess,” she sounded unsure, but pushed through as she shifted her dog in her arm, showing off the badge on his collar, and the badge around her neck, “But the stairs..”

“Elevators that way,” he pointed to a set of double doors aways back behind him. She gave a sigh of relief, and a nod, smiling as she tried to give a small wave with her hand holding her walking crutch. “Thank you, sir. I don’t think I would have made it all the way up..”

“No problem, ma’am,” he nodded, gesturing her to pass him after she’d swiped both her and her dogs cards, and moved to hobble past. She disappeared behind the elevator, and he shook his head slowly. 

_ ‘She must of joined to work with Abby Sciuto or something..’ _

* * *

“Oh boy,” Chrys murmured, taking a deep breath in before she started to awkwardly walk her way into the lower office. The room was, for the most part, orange, with lots of glass and heavy-duty desks. There was a stairwell to her left, and up ahead, and to her right was the infamous bullpen.

Exactly how it showed every night.

_ Oh boy.. I’m going to be eaten alive.. _

_ Easy.. Easy, Chrys.. You survived Grandad’s war stories, you can handle this.. _

Gulping, she straightened her back, and started to walk. As she got to the opening closest to her she looked up and over, her eyes first landing on the desk of one Miss Todd. She was wearing a bright blue shirt, and khakis, with her hair partially pulled back, and the rest loose. Anthony DiNozzo was at his desk, but once she had come into view, he was up and out of his seat, startling the woman who was working at a scanner behind her chair. 

“Hello Miss,” he grinned, the new face brazenly clear as he walked up to her quickly. He noted the dog in her arms, and the crutch in the other, as well as the heavy backpack and the heavy shoulder bag. He winced, reaching out his arms, and gave her an inviting smile. “Would you like some help?”

“Uhm, thanks,” she smiled, nodding as she shifted Ren onto her hip, and turned her head toward her crutch, “Uhm, I just.. I’m looking for Gibb’s team. Could you.. Give me directions..?”

“That would be here,” he took a look around, seeing Kate set down the papers she was working on and start over with a face of confusion. “Kate, what’s up?”

“Do I know you?” Kate looked confused, looking over the woman’s army-print cap, clearly a civilian-made accessory, with red, fire truck hued hair spilling in waves over her back through a clip. Her outfit was a blue and purple gradient sweater with thick black stripes that went from her shoulders to her mid-thighs, long black cargo shorts coming to her knees beneath that. She had a single black combat boot on her left foot, and a bright, neon green cast on the right, showing off a purple sock similar to the bottom gradient hue of her sweater. Around her neck was a lanyard with an NCIS badge and card, as well as a lavender colored scarf and a black sleeveless vest. 

“I was on the flight with the president, Miss Todd,” the girl smiled, and Kate had to blink a few times before it clicked together. “Y-You’re that girl that-”

“Threw herself at the gunman?” Chrys grinned, “He’s alive, as luck would have it. And singing with the choir in the FBI’s interrogation room. I snuck on to help. Under cover of course.”

“Yeah, that, you..” Kate shook her head quickly, running a hand through her hair before she winced at the sight of the cast. Tony was working on helping her get her heavy backpack off and set on the spare desk, her bag getting put beside it while she struggled to stay upright and keep ahold of her dog. “You got shot-..”

“Yeah,” Chrys grinned, setting her crutch against the desk and shooting DiNozzo a smile before holding out her right arm, palm out, “Nice to meet you. My names Chrys L. Jordan. My friend’s called me Chrys.”

“You must be the new girl, then?” DiNozzo leaned closer as he steadied her shoulder, almost to the point where their sides were touching. She didn’t seem to care, or have any indication of liking it either, so he tilted his head a bit, his voice a tinge concerned, “Are you cool to be standing like that? I can get you a chair.”

“I’m good,” she smiled, patting his hand on her shoulder before she reached for her crutch and used it as leverage to awkwardly lean down, letting her dog skuttle out of her arms and circle back around to sit at her feet.

“Well, I’m.. glad to see you’re better,” Kate grinned, clapping her hands together once before looking down at the silent, small dog. “And who is this little guy.. Is he.. Blue?”

“Navy blue,” Chrys grinned, “His name is Ren. My best friend is this weird world.”

“Cute,” DiNozzo agreed, kneeling down hesitantly, and when the dog didn’t growl slowly held out his hand, making little whistle sounds, and kissy noises. “Tut-tut-tut, here boy-! C’mere-!”

“He.. He’s not..” Chrys started, stopped, then threw her head back, “Crap, I forgot to shift his settings. Ren-!” The dog looked up quickly at her, still silent as a grave, and she gave a smile, “Friend Mode.”

“Thank you,” the automated voice, deep and masculine, replied promptly. Tony fell back quickly, while Kate stumbled back an entire step.

“The dog is talking,” Tony blinked widely, bracing his upper arm on the desk as he hurried to get on his feet, his other arm pointing weakly to the small contraption, “That dog just talked.”

“Yeah,” Chrys nodded, “He’s an AI..”

“AI,” Kate repeated, “Artificial Intelligence?”

“He has an opinion, and he’s sitting there,” she pointed with her good hand down at the dog sitting patiently at her feet. “Ren, sweetheart, introduce yourself, please.”

“Of course,” the dog actually nodded toward her, and the two agents could only stare as the dog shifted in it’s seat, tipping it’s chip up and blinking at them with shiny black eyes. “My name is Seragaki Reason. My owner has shortened it to Ren. You may call me by this if you wish.”

“Ren is my Allmate,” Chrys grinned, “I’m in the business of making new and improved technology.”

“I’ll say,” Tony whispered, keeping his eyes on the small ball of fluff with the ridiculously poofy tail. “How did that get past security?”

“We work here now,” Chrys grinned. “Specifically Gibb’s team. You two are on it if I’m not mistaken.”

“We are..” Kate aggreed slowly, shaking herself off a second later and giving the girl a smile after shaking her hand, “Well, it’s good to meet you. Glad you get to work with us.”

“Does Gibbs know about the dog?” Tony asked once both he and Kate had gone back to their assigned areas to do what they had stopped to meet the new girl.

“What dog?”

The voice had both agents jumping, and both Kate and Tony relaxed marginally at their boss striding right between them, a coffee in hand as marched toward his desk. He stopped before he sat down, taking in the woman propped up against the unused desk with a small blue dog at her feet. “That dog,” he murmured, then stood up straight, working his jaw a bit as he walked back around the desk, and moved to stand in front of her. Her cast was an eyesore, and her hair was similar in it’s vibrancy, but she looked relaxed, and rather happy, if the lightness of her eyes said anything. “Who are you?” he demanded calmly. 

“Morrow should have told you,” she smiled, “I helped you solve the hang-up case.”

He worked his jaw again, looking over her single boot, and the many pockets on her short, as well as the bright striped sweater and the army cap. “Jordan?”

“One in the same,” she smiled. “The tags you found with me after the blow out on the back-up plane were my dad’s. He died in Afghanistan.”

“Years are wrong,” he pointed out cooly. Stone faced.

“For this day and age, they are,” she nodded.

“Am I getting any more than that?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe after a couple drinks too many,” she chuckled.

“Hmm,” he hummed, a non-answer, before closing his eyes and turning back around. “What’ve we got?”

“Are we not going to discuss this?” DiNozzo murmured. Kate shrugged, and Gibbs took a seat, looking over his screen with annoyance, “DiNozzo-?!”

“Right, boss,” he nodded, practically diving back to his chair and fumbling for the case registry. “Car crash in Quantico last night. No fatalities.”

“Next,” Gibbs cut him off.

“Petty officer caught shoplifting at Bloomingdales,” Tony tried again, rolling his pen between his fingers.

“Is there anything worth over fifty grand at Bloomingdale’s, DiNozzo,” Gibbs looked over his monitors, but glanced back up at Tony when he expected a response.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then why would we handle it?” he asked slowly. Then, when Tony had looked briefly and sufficiently chastised, “Next.”

“Ah.. I heard a rumor about an ecstasy ring in Lejeune..” Tony offered, almost pathetically. Even he knew it wasn’t much to go on.

“You heard a rumor?” Gibbs repeated, disbelief obvious in his tone.

“Oh, he’s been searching for a case, any case,” Kate picked up quickly, “since I came in.”

Tony, seeing his boss roll his eyes, quickly flicked his eyes to the email directly in front of him, mocking him, more like. Chrys smiled as she peered over the desk she was perched on to look at Gibb’s computer. He looked so stupefied as he clicked through what could have been an outdated email account.

“ _ All _ agents  _ not  _ working active cases are to attend a sexual harassment lecture at the NCIS Human Resource Training Center at zero-nine-thirty hours  _ today _ .”

“I cannot sit through another one of those,” Gibbs dismissed him immediately, having moved to the paper and pen tactic when looking through his monitor seemed futile. “I will shoot myself.”

“You mean,” Kate shook her head, surprised as she stepped out from around her desk to look toward her Boss in confusion. “They actually  _ train _ you guys how to harass?” She gave a quiet laugh, and at the silence, and Gibb’s pointed, unamused stare, she shrugged, “Hey, I’m kidding. Except for Tony.” She turned her eyes to the brunette in question then.

“For the last time, Kate,” Tony defended himself calmly, if not a bit tersely, “I was only trying to get my seatbelt on.”

“Right,” Kate agreed sarcastically, “Seat belt.”

A phone cut into the sudden quiet, and Chrys smiled a little as she hurriedly slung her bag over her shoulder and gave a short, chirped whistle to Ren so he could follow as she slung the bag over her shoulder again and reached for her crutch to stand quickly. 

“Yeah, Gibbs,” Gibbs shot her a look as the person on the other end pleaded there case, before he sat up, and got to his feet, “Okay, we’re on it.” He shut his phone quickly, and moved to grab his coffee, “Dead Navy Commander just washed up on a North Virginia beach.”

“Yes-!” Tony hopped to his feet excited, though Chrys had to, impressively, pass him as she skuttled by with her crutch after Gibbs. Said man caught his excitement, and sent him a glare, but stopped her just a few yards from the elevator. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the crime scene..?” she asked slowly.

“To a beach, with an open toed cast and a walking crutch?” Gibbs repeated her in a correcting tone of voice. He pointed at the desks, and raised his eyebrows. “You’ll work from here, we’ll recon when we get back. Until then, work the phones, you know how to do that, right?”

“I’ll type a report until you get back,” she nodded, frowning before she reached out a hand and grabbed his shoulder as he moved to continue, “Now wait just a second-!” He looked a little pissed, but she continued. “At least take Ren so I have eyes on the scene.”

“Who’s Ren?” he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Me.”

Gibbs looked down slowly at the dog at her ankles, then gradually bringing his eyes back up to her when she made no move to exclaim it was a joke. 

“...Did that dog just talk?”

“He’s a computer,” she shrugged, “he thinks for himself, and generally gets humor. Sarcasm has only recently been introduced to his system, but his bullshit meter is fully functional.”

“..Good to hear,” he muttered shaking his head at the dog before giving a chirped whistle and turning to walk away, Ren just a foot behind him trotting silently. “Man the phones, Jordan-!”

“Will do, sir,” she grinned.

“Don’t call me sir,” he grunted, right before the doors closed. Once the elevator doors shut, she smiled, and chuckled softly to herself before turning to hobble back to the desk that would either one day be McGee’s, or be her’s permanently. 

Nevertheless, she would do her damndest to get that boy on their team.

And keep Kate from biting the dust.

Now, next up on her list of stuff to do..

Meet Abby, and Ducky, decorate desk, and set up computers..

She should meet Abby first, but direct the calls on the phone to her Cell.

Clicking a few buttons on the line, she synced the phones, all four in the bullpen with her cell, before moving to tuck the cell in her front pocket, and move her way to the elevator.


	3. Chapter 3

“So you’re the new girl, then?” Abby tilted her head as she looked at the bright, fluorescent green cast on the girl’s foot, as well as the stylish sweater and the black vest. The scarf hung around her neck fashionably but the hat on her head, and the look on her face was nothing to be girly about. “What exactly did they hire you for?”

“I see the future sometimes,” she smiled, giving the goth a pleasant shake to the hand before she glanced up at the wall art. “Sweet Mother of Candy, what exactly  _ is _ that?”

“Bullet to the spine,” Abby pointed out, grinning when she caught the look of excitement on the newbie’s face. “You like?”

“I love..” Chrys murmured, grinning as she tucked her chin to her chest, bit back a squeal, and composed herself enough to give the woman beside her a grin, “How much do you like computers?”

“A lot,” Abby nodding, the intrigue on her face not missed as Chrys began hopping a little in place before fidgeting, and shaking her shoulders, trying to get the backpack to fall loose, “Alright, then, what’s your opinion on talking dogs?”

“Like talking, talking,” Abby moved to grab one of the desk chairs, helping the girl to sit down and getting a thankful smile before the red-headed newbie started searching through her bag, before pulling out what looked like a heavy-duty sketchbook. “Well, now you’ve got me curious, newbie.”

“Okay,” Chrys murmured, biting her lip as she looked toward Abby, before narrowing her eyes, and giving her a serious expression, “I want your word you will not say a single syllable of this to DiNozzo or Todd.”

“Deal,” Abby nodded. Chrys flashed her a smile, before starting to flip through the pages. Once she had gotten toward the back, she sighed in relief, and flipped the journal over so the goth could accept it from her hands and clearly see the design. “I was thinking something a bit more formal, like Great Dane when I thought of Forensics, but when I got in here, I knew for a fact you might like something a bit more..”

“Edgy..” Abby nodded slowly, seeing the dog on the page in graphite done with notes and measurements on the side.. Or, what she  _ assumed _ were notes.. “What language is this in..?”

“Oh, uh, that’s German,” she smiled, “I’m.. kind of a language buff..”

“Tech expert, language buff,” she listed off calmly, eyes stuck on the page as she traced her finger along the spine of the rugged, badass looking dog with a skull for a face. “What else can you do?”

“I’m rather good at cooking and baking but do not ever ask me to fix a leaky pipe,” she frowned. “I’m good with robots and computers, not pipes and furnishing. Just about drove my grandad insane.”

“So you like cooking,” Abby smiled, moving to sit beside her after snagging a spare seat and dragging it over to plop right next to her, “Anything else?”

“I have.. A sordid fascination with horror movies,” she shrugged, “If that interests you..”

“Oh, it does,” Abby grinned.

* * *

“Welcome back,” Chrys greeted both Gibbs and Tony as they exit the elevator, surprising the first and spooking the second as she held up a carrying container with to-go cups of coffee, “Black coffee. DiNozzo there’s cream and sugar at your desk if you need it.”

“Thank you,” Gibbs gave a slight nod as he took one, tipping it back for a sip, and nodding before completely walking toward the bullpen. “DiNozzo, hurry it up-!”

“You knew we were coming in?” the tall Italian looked rather happy when he took the offered cup, giving it a sniff before nodding as he gave a slow shuffle beside her. She didn’t have either of her bags with her, but there was a bulge in one pocket that showed something large and flat. “What’s that?”

“My cell phone,” she grinned, reaching down her stiff arm and pulling it from it’s holder, before showing the entirely black device to the curious agent. “I hooked all the bullpen phone lines up to it as you left so I could hobble around and keep in touch.”

“How do you hook up land lines to a.. Flat brick?” Tony looked honestly confused as they reached the desks, and she pointed out the sugar and creamer in small containers beside his desktop before she moved to sit on the edge of his desk, showing him the screen, before she flicked it on, pressing the button on the side.

“Holy crap,” Tony murmured. “What is that?”

“Cell phone,” she grinned, “I also have a laptop you can touch the screen on, and a talking robotic dog. Speaking of, where is he?”

“With Kate,” he grinned, nodding toward the elevator, as if he expected her to walk in any second, when, likely, it would be at least a half hour, considering Gibb’s driving speed against the tow truck’s. “Should be back soon.” He finished stirring his coffee with a little provided stick, and took an experimental sip before giving her a nod. “Thank you Agent.. Jordan, right?”

“Right,” she nodded, “Just give me a heads up next time you run out so I know what coffee to get. Until my leg heals up, I’m gonna be pretty useless.”

“Well for your sake, I hope not,” Gibbs moved around to give her a frown, running a hand down his face, “You’re a tech expert, right?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded slowly, standing quickly with the aid of her walking crutch and quickly hobbling over, “What’s wrong?”

“How do I get..” he motioned for her to come around, and stood up once she had, using his hands to maneuver her shoulders until she was sitting directly in front of his monitors, “Into my email with going through fifty different things?”

“How about..” she murmured, exiting out of every tab he had opened before completely clearing out the history and restarting it, “I give you a quick-start, so it either opens up to your email automatically when you log in, or I can put it on a single click go-to on the screen you see when you turn it on? I’d recommend the second, because it would be ridiculously easy for someone to simply sit at your desk and get into your email. That’s not something you want.”

“Then do that,” he gruffed.

“Alrighty,” she smiled, lifting up her cap so she could tuck away her bangs before cracking her fingers and setting to work. “I’m going to go through first and eliminate any possibilities of Spam emails so that you don’t need to worry about viruses, this will also prevent hackers from getting into your email in case the system in the building isn’t always up to par.”

“Spam?” he repeated.

“Not the questionable meat,” she shook her head, as patient as one could be as she moved to click through the available search engines. Pulling the flashdrive from her pocket, she reached out and stuck it into the port just a ways from her right hand. “Alright, here it says you have the standard NCIS building email. I myself have five, only one of which was recently created for this job, and I suggest if you ever want to make a new one for personal use, talk to me so I can help you set it up. Putting the scanning software on now..” she clicked around  smoothly, feeling a twitch in her right hand but brushing it off as she continued to scan through, then type in the code she needed. “Alright, that’s on.. Do you want the email to be able to go to your phone?”

“You can do that?” he sounded confused.

“Yep,” she nodded, “I put in a few lines of code, and anything that gets sent to your computer will be on your phone a few seconds later. If I add the advanced processor into the computer’s hard drive, I’d be able to give you a Coil, it’s like a mini computer for your wrist, shaped like a watch.” “Coil,” he repeated, “Like a spring?”

“No,” she smiled, shaking her head before she pulled back one of the sleeves of her sweater, the left one, and showed him a thick, but stylish black watch with a small, two inch by a half inch line of screen. “This is a Coil. I’d show you what it does, but you might get a heart attack.” “Looks like a watch,” he huffed, looking over the computer that was clearing through what looked like a giant wall of moving green numbers. “What is that doing?”

“Oh,” she smiled, “It’s putting in anti-virus software that will prevent people from being able to so much as glance at your desktop.. Computer screen. From anywhere else in the world. Even  _ if _ they have a super-hacker on their team, they’re not getting a hint at your search history.”

“Huh,” he murmured, “and this will help me get my email?”

“It’ll keep people from  _ going _ through your email,” she smiled, relaxed as it finished loading, and she quickly released the drive from port and moved to put a single icon on the desktop. “You need to personalize this. A boring desktop makes for a boring day. All my backgrounds are meant to lift my spirits up.. Motivation and the like..”

“I have no clue how to do that,” he stated calmly, taking a sip of his coffee as she continued to move things around. She looked completely at ease, despite him almost literally breathing down her neck. “You wanna do something, be my guest. I’m standing right here.”

“Gladly,” she took his sarcasm in stride, and promptly pulled a sailboat from the offered images in the program. Setting it up took a few more clicks, and as she spun around in her seat, she flashed the man a grin. “Alright. All set up. The email is the Icon with the mail letter, the criminal search database is the icon with the magnifying glass, the government worker search database is the one with the flag on it, and I have Google just under that one for personal searches. Private search is active and will not deactivate until you choose to do so, your passcode for everything on here,  _ including _ the computer itself is now Scuttlebutt, capital S.”

“Why do I need passwords?” he murmured, watching as she hobbled to stand and grasping her elbow when she started to teeter, before letting her on her own as she cleared a spoto on his actual desk and perched herself down as he took a seat, moving to click through what she’d set up. “So normies can’t just plop their sorry keesters down and take a look at your stuff, boss,” she sniffed. “It’s a safety precaution. Not to mention, Scuttlebutt isn’t hard to remember.”

“Alright,” he sighed, clicking through every program before clicking back out of it. He at least knew how to do that much. “Thank you, Agent Jordan.”

“No problem, Boss,” she nodded, getting to her feet and reaching for her walking crutch.

“When will you be cleared by your doctor for field work?” he asked, raising his voice a bit as she moved away from him and plopped down at the cleared desk in the corner. 

“A month or so, hopefully,” she smiled. She had what looked like a slim unfolded book, but when she moved it to the side, Tony looked spooked, as well as extatic. “Holy crap- is that a computer-?!”

“Laptop,” she grinned, “Best of the world. Currently. I’m making another, but the parts.. Well..”

“I need one,” he begged quietly, practically hanging himself over the back of her chair as she started to type in. She’d hooked into the wifi and was quickly going through what looked like criminal record databases. “Seriously, can you  _ please _ get me one of these?”

“Maybe,” she grinned, “If I can find the parts, definitely, but Abby has first dibs on any gadgets I make for the team.”

“Gadgets,” Tony repeated slowly.

The shit-eating grin on his face was enough to make her chuckle.

Yeah, she’d find a friend in DiNozzo..

* * *

By the time Kate had gotten back to the bullpen a half hour later, Chrys had finished her coffee and gooten another cup as she waited just outside the elevator. Gibb’s had asked her where she thought she was going those several minutes ago, but she’d promptly given him a smile, and offered him a refill on coffee.

He said he would get it himself in a minute.

He’d also muttered about her being up too long on her leg.

“Hi, Miss Todd,” Chrys smiled pleasantly when Kate exit the elevator, seeing the raven-haired woman jump a little at the sight of the oddly-dressed woman before she set down the rather silent dark blue dog, who immediately moved to go to his owner’s heels. Chrys held out the cup with a smile, and Kate took it hesitantly as the red-head continued to talk. “I heard you got held-up in the tow-truck? I thought you might like some coffee. Sugar and cream are at your desk if you need it, it’s currently hot and black.”

“Thank you,” Kate nodded, giving her a smile before moving to walk quickly back to the bullpen, then pausing when she realized Chrys was a bit lagged. “You alright?”

“I took a few percocets, I’m good,” the redhead grinned.

“Thanks for waiting, guys,” Kate greeted Tony, who was coming back to the pen with a file folder while Gibbs returned with his new coffee.

“Chain of custody Kate,” he stated calmly, shedding his jacket and hanging it over his desk as he sat himself back down in his chair, “You had to stay with the boat.”

“I’m not stupid, Gibbs,” Kate pointed out, letting her coat hang over the edge of her area as she moved to look over the contents of her desk.

“Never said you were,” Gibbs tucked himself into the desk quickly.

“I didn’t have to ride in the tow truck with that boat now did I?” Kate sighed, getting a bit agitated, “You do this to all the newbies or just the females?”

“Do we look like sexists?” Tony looked confused.

“Ask me who’s buried in Grant’s tomb,” Kate turned her attention to DiNozzo after a shake of her head, “It’s a tougher question.”

“Okay, okay, fun’s over,” Gibbs cut in, making both special agents turn to him quickly with obedient expressions, “Give me the highlights.”

“Nine students from UVA were having a beach party. Around zero-two-thirty, they heard what they first thought were fireworks out on the water.”

“Gunfire,” Tony nodded.

“Good guess Tony,” Kate commended him briefly, a bit playfully, before returning to her report. “The whaler had six holes in it’s stern, two in the engine housing.”

“Commander was running,” Gibbs pointed out calmly, glancing toward his paper and pen as he wrote it down. Chrys was already setting up the systems she needed, and was working on bypassing the firewalls in the FBI in order to get into the encrypted stuff.

It wasn’t hard, and in a way, it made her feel pity for the poor techies there..

“Probably from a larger boat they heard racing up the coast,” Kate offered, “About fifteen seconds later, the Mary Celeste came roaring out of the dark and onto the beach. Scared the hell out of them.”

“What’d you find on the boat?” Gibbs asked calmly.

“Fishing gear, bait, coffee thermos, ham sandwich, I logged everything, sent it to Abby,” Kate read off calmly.

“He’s a victim of circumstance,” Chrys piped up, cutting off Tony as he opened his mouth to speak, “There won’t be any drugs. I did a background on this guy before you got back, soon as I got his name from Ren, he heard the Local Leo say it out loud, then transmit it to me. Our Commander checks out. He’s squeaky clean, to the point where he runs a fundraiser for kids to play ball after dark. Funds keep the lights going. There’s absolutely nothing in here that says he could be involved with drugs, and if I’m going to..” she slowly trailed off when she caught silence, and she looked up when she felt the three piercing sets of eyes on her body. “W.. What is it?”

“You had that report before we got here?” Gibbs blinked slowly, “and you didn’t tell me?”

“I was waiting for Kate,” she murmured, scuffing her good shoe on the carpet before she bit her lip and glanced down at her computer, “There’s a printed copy in your ingoing paper tray.. You probably didn’t look..”

“DEA seems to think there’s a drug connection,” Gibbs pointed out, sighing sharply as he reached over to his paper trays and plucked out a small stack that was cleanly stapled together, “Anything you can give me as hard proof against that?”

“Not.. until we catch the other bad guys..” Chrys winced, “Sucky answer, I know, but.. Let’s just say I’ve got a bad feeling about this case..”

“Two dealers floated ashore last night at Fort Story. Aerated,” Gibbs listed off to Kate, catching her up further. 

“Well, there were no drugs on the whaler,” Kate confirmed.

“You sure?” Tony asked curiously, tilting his head back towards Gibbs as he shuffled his feet to get comfy, “I knew a granny in Baltimore-” Gibb’s looked unamused by his agent’s retelling and moved to look over his monitor to see if he had any emails. The process was significantly less annoying, now. “She hid a kilo of ‘H’ in her horse’s rectum.”

“..No horse on the boat, Tony,” Kate stated calmly, her expression borderline sarcastic as she kept her tone cool, then turned back to Gibb’s, looking confused, “We working a joint investigation with the DEA?”

“Yup,” Gibbs nodded, writing down what he needed quickly as he mentally listed off the facts, “Ducky’s got all three bodies in autopsy and Abby’s drawing the money.”

“Money?” Kate repeated, confused.

“The dealers were found with fanny packs stuffed with wet Franklins,” Gibbs sat back in his seat, completely serious.

“Well, I gotta see those bills,” Kate pointed out, moving to go to her desk to look over anything important she might have missed. Her coffee was one. It was going to be cold soon. 

“Why?” Gibbs asked, confused.

“I  _ did _ work for the secret service,” Kate pointed out, a bit of pride in her tone as her shoulders straightened back. “We tend to get all hot and bothered over large sums of hundred dollar bills.”

“Is that what does it for ya’?” Tony asked rhetorically.

Kate stopped halfway out of the bullpen, turning back on her heel and marching until she was nearly a few inches from Tony’s toes as she gave him a snarky smile, “What  _ does it _ for me, Tony,” she grinned when he folded his arms across his chest, looking stone-faced and unbothered, “Is a mystery you will never solve.”

“I know the answer,” Tony grinned, seeing Kate’s calm, and rather dubious expression, gave her a grin, “Grant.”

Kate walked away, and Gibbs sighed. “Why do I feel like a high school principal?”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Chrys smiled, “I already plan on being coffee-detail and report writer for however long you’ll have me. Secretary definition, if I’m not mistaken.”

“If those college kids were right,” Gibbs murmured, getting to his feet as he looked over the plasma, where the map of the waterways was up for inspection. “Whoever shot the commander, ran into the Chesapeake or up the Maryland coast.” After a second, he shook his head and turned back to Tony. “Find out which.”

“I’m on it,” DiNozzo nodded firmly.


	4. Chapter 4

“ _ Commander Farrel, a navy ROTC instructor at Hampton Roads, was found on North Virginia Beach this morning near the bodies of two alleged drug dealers..” _

“Oh, that cannot be legal,” Chrys hissed, clucking her tongue at the TV as Gibbs continued to scribble on his pad of paper, stopping once she had pointedly turned up the volume and setting his pen aside. “Look at this.. Look at  _ her _ .. She’s  _ ruining _ this man’s life and career, for what? She has no solid reports, no facts, just assumptions and a body. And you know what they say about assumptions..”

“ _ Commander Farrel, a founder of Urban Lights, a night basketball anti-drug program, may have been involved in smuggling illegal drugs into the Norfolk area.” _

Gibbs was on his feet moments later, and Chrys scoot over in Tony’s chair she had commandeered to watch the program on the TV while her system ran through the ID sketch she had tried to do from memory. So far it had several matches, but nothing she was concrete about yet. She would keep looking.

“ _ Expressing shock and outrage, a community center spokesperson said the Urban Lights Basketball program will be suspended, on all Norfolk community courts. _ ” Gibbs shut the screen off, and the woman beside him gave no indication that she cared.

“Is it wrong that I want to give her a head slap?” Chrys muttered.

“Nope,” he muttered, “I do, too.”

“God, I hate the news,” she grumbled, “They either over dramatize shit or they never get enough of what needs to be said..”

“Hmph,” Gibbs grunted, looking over at her work station before taking in the practically empty desk, “You planning on leaving?”

“Not soon,” she sighed, “I just.. Don’t feel comfortable with such a big desk.. You’ll get a new guy on the team eventually, so I’ll use it till then, but..”

“And you know that, how?” he sniffed, leaning back a bit in his seat to look her over as she reached up her good hand to fiddle with the ends of her hair. “Morrow said some pretty strange things about you. Anything else I should be informed of?”

“Nothing concrete,” she smiled, “Except you are the one who petitions for the new guy and he is an absolute noob and dork. He gets along well with Abby, and he’s almost like an eager puppy.”

“When is this?” he asked calmly.

“Eventually,” she sniffed, shrugging her shoulders, “I don’t get exact dates boss. If I did, I would have recorded it all, and put it in a journal for you to reference while I chilled out in some remote cabin with a fireplace, a wifi router, a rower, and a semi-auto caster.”

“You like fishing,” he scoffed.

“Don’t look the type, do I?” she smiled, shrugging her shoulder before she pulled out her phone, pulling up the photos and catching Gibb’s wide, stunned eyes as she swiped through different folders before pulling up what she needed. “Here.. Sixth grade, I won the fishing tournament in Michigan. And in Eighth grade I won the junior nationals.”

“Not bad,” he muttered.

“It’s better at dawn,” she shrugging, clicking out of her tabs and putting it to sleep before putting it back in her carrier, “When it’s almost eerily quiet, and you can just sit there and listen to the cicadas and the moving water.. Even better when you have whiskey or bourbon on the side and a fresh basket of homemade grilled cheese and hot tomato soup in a thermos..”

“I’ll bet,” he sighed, moving to get off the desk and patting her shoulder before he went to finish his daily report. She had turned hers in an hour ago. “When are you going home, Special Agent Jordan?”

“Uhm..” she blinked slowly, glancing toward the dog sitting in the small, fluffy pet-bed she’d brought in her backpack, among other things, before shrugging her shoulders. “Not.. quite sure, boss.. You were still here.. Figured, I would wait until I got somewhere on my file scanner or if you needed anything else before I left..”

“Go home, Jordan,” Gibbs sighed, moving back to his report.

“Yes, Boss,” Chrys smiled, tipping her head before she got to her feet, and grabbed her walking crutch, moving to hobble over to her desk and sling her arms into her backpack, then her bag around her neck and shoulder. She gave a soft chirp, and Ren got up from Sleep mode, before hopping onto the chair, then the desk, and getting scooped into his creator’s arms. “Atta boy, Ren,” she smiled, rubbing the fur between his ears before maneuvering him to go back behind her head, and slide into her slightly open backpack, positioned so only his fluffy head was poking out, as well as his badge and his spiked collar.

“How are you getting home?” Gibbs asked as she hobbled past, using the edge of Kate’s area to stop herself when she’d heard him and turning back to give him a shrug. “Taxi, why?”

“You gotta gun?” he asked promptly.

“I gotta taser,” she shrugged again. It was becoming a habit. “And a knife.”

Gibbs let out a heavy exhale, and let his pen fall back into it’s caddy before he turned off his computer, and grabbed his jacket, pulling his arms through it quickly before he moved to walk out to her. “Alright, come on.”

“Excuse me?” she raised her eyebrows, and Gibb’s put a hand on her upper back, left shoulder, before guiding her off of the bullpen wall and maneuvering her toward the elevator. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, I’m giving you a ride home,” he pointed out. Rather factual as his eyes found the elevator, and he held it open as she hobbled inside, before pressing the ground floor. “How do you get to work every morning?”

“Taxi,” she repeated, “Boss, I’m not in danger of getting shot, or taken advantage of, believe me.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he huffed, looking pointedly at her leg and her stiff arm before he moved to settle against the wall of the elevator. His eyes flicked from the shining silver wall back to the vibrant red of her hair, before he scoffed, and shook his head. “Your hair was black on the plane. And shorter.”

“Wig,” she smiled, “Wig and makeup. Lots.. of makeup..”

“Hmph,” he nodded, leaving the two in relaxed silence as the doors opened. He held them there while she let herself out, and he slowed his pace to match hers as they went to the lot. “Got an address?”

“No, I live under a bridge,” she scoffed.

“Which bridge?” He asked calmly.

She couldn’t help but laugh quietly, and he tilted his head a bit as he opened the passenger door, helping her maneuver her stiff, green-coated leg inside before carefully shutting it, and moving to his own door. “So,” he sighed, moving to put on his seatbelt and taking note that she already had. “Address?”

“Cherry Tree Lane,” she smiled, “About thirty-two miles west of here. I’ll key you into the turns the Taxi driver made. Just keep a lookout for a house with the shutters down and what looks like a big, scary man standing in the upper left window.”

“Do I wanna know?” he asked suddenly.

“I’ve made a cutout of one of my favorite TV show characters,” she smiled, shaking her head, “It’s set up in my office so everytime that I look up, I get inspired to work harder.”

“Fascinating,” he mumbled.

When they pulled into the drive she pointed out, she mumbled something long the lines of ‘I’m not completely incapable, Boss’ before sliding out of the car, and fixing her bag back over her shoulder. Accepting the crutch he handed her from the backseat, she grasped the side of the door, moving to shut it, before she paused, and gave the man in front of her a curious look. “You’re.. Headed to the courts, aren’t you? The ones that were turned off?”

He didn’t say anything, and when she didn’t get and answer, she shrugged, and gave him a smile, “Whatever, like I told Morrow, I trust you, you know? I won't tell the others, so you can keep your cool persona, but I know you’re a softy under all that gruff hardass you put out.”

“And how would you know that?” he raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged, giving him a smile. 

“Wasn’t the password something like.. Semper fi..?”

He didn’t say a word further, and she chuckled, before shutting the door, and giving him a wave as he paused, shifted gears, and head out of her drive. He waited at the end of it until she had gotten completely inside, before pulling out of the lot, and disappearing down the street.

* * *

“Oh boy,” Chrys sighed, carefully maneuvering the coffees in one hand while she kept her walking crutch in the other, moving her way down the walk to the bullpen. Two creams and a sugar for Kate, five sugars, five creams for Tony, and pure black for Gibbs.

There was also ten cream fifteen sugar for herself. She marked each lid with a little colorful dot sticker so she kept track of whose was whose.

“Ren,” she called gently as she waddled her way past the bustling agents, “Any updates on the program I left running last night?”

“There were six new matches,” Ren confirmed calmly, “Further examination will be required.”

“Gotcha,” she smiled, “Do me a favor, when we get to the desk, I need a list of florists brought up and pinned to my taskbar. After that, look into possible car dealers.. I need a ride. Something fast and durable. A Jeep, maybe..”

“Understood,” he nodded, pressing his nose into the back of her head before he was still again. She couldn’t help but grin at his cuteness. She was one lucky bitch.

“Coffee-!” she called, seeing Tony perk up from his desk and Kate do the same as she just set down her bag, both agents looking pleasantly surprised at the white cups they were offered. “Orange for Tony,” she held out the cup with orange sticker, “Purple for Kate.” Kate took the cup, and she set the sky blue one down for herself, before flicking her eyes to Gibb’s empty desk, “And.. navy for Gibbs.. Where is he?”

“He’ll be here in..” Tony looked at his watch. “N-”

“Now,” Gibbs waltzed into the bullpen, taking a glance at the coffee at his desk before finishing the one in his hand off and picking that one up, “What’ve we got?”

“Abby finished running the bills you gave her,” Kate spoke up quickly, “I was just about to run it through the system for the missmarks of real and lifelike currency.”

“Well, what are we standing here for?” Gibbs asked slowly.

“Waiting for you, Boss,” Tony grinned, following the grey haired man toward the elevator as Kate followed swiftly, Chrys managing to get inside the elevator just before it closed with a silent dog on her heels.

“Why aren’t you sitting at your desk with the phones?” Gibbs asked calmly.

“Because I rerouted them to my cell for easy access,” she grinned, “This way I can talk to Abby. I need her opinion on some samples I have for the next Allmate I’m making-” “I don’t talk tech, Jordan,” Gibbs cut her off cooly, “Simple terms?”

“She needs to pick a color for me,” Chrys smiled, unbothered by the cutoff as she looked toward Kate and Tony. “Did I get the coffee right, at least?”

“Perfect,” Kate smiled, giving her a nod, “Thank you.”

“You’re starting to get me better and better, Agent Jordan,” DiNozzo grinned, bumping her good hip with his own, as they were rather close in the exposed space. “So, I don’t think it’s been done yet, but after this case I would  _ love _ to invite you to dinner. As a sort of.. ‘Welcome to the Team’ gesture.”

“Depends on the venue,” she smiled, “I’ve sworn off a couple restaurants for life out of personal health interest.”

“Great,” he grinned.

“Wonderful,” she smiled, “Can’t wait to see all three of you there. Abby, Doctor Mallard and his assistant are coming, too, yes?” The doors opened, and she turned swiftly on her booted heel before calling out with a grin, “Abby-! I got the Frappuccino you said you’d try-!”

“Ooh~! Is it sweet-?”

“Almost enough to give you a cavity,” Chrys grinned, holding out the cup with the black sticker before getting out her own sweetened drink with the light blue sticker and taking a strong sip. “Mmm.”

“Was that the first time you’ve ever been brushed off, Tony?” Kate asked with faux sincerity as she bit back a chuckle, ‘consoling’ the poor man who had trudged last off the elevator after the shut-down to the date idea.

“Abby,” Gibbs called as he entered the sliding glass door. “What’ve you got?”

“Here’s the close up of one of the bills from the washed up bodies,” Abby typed a bit on her computer, before pulling up an enlarged Benjamin Franklin on the computer. “And, I think  _ Kate’s _ got this one covered for you today, Boss.”

“Alright,” Gibbs nodded, “Kate?”

Seeing her cue, the woman jumped right into the thick of it, “For the 1990 to ‘96 series, treasury introduced microprinting as a countermeasure against computer printers and copiers. Good enough to stop highschool kids, but not rogue countries and a few of the world’s top forgers.” Abby handed her the tablet pen after Kate donned gloves, and she clicked her pen on the tray holding the dollar bill she was scanning, and the screen drastically zoomed in to the very fine, fine print in the rope around Benjamin’s portrait. “It’s got one tiny flaw,” Kate pointed out calmly.

“I’ll be damned,” Gibb’s murmured, a smug smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” Tony asked cluelessly.

“You’d think a man that can find heroin in a horse’s ass could find this,” Kate spoke slowly.

“You reached into a horse’s ass?” the DEA that had come up in silence with Gibbs to observe had chuckled, as if it were a joke. He stopped immediately after seeing Tony look unamused. “I had a glove on,” the Italian defended briskly. Then, turning his eyes to the screen with the enlarged print. “United States, what’s wrong with that?”

“Tony?” Chrys asked softly, tugging at his sleeve and getting his immediate attention. “You passed elementary school, right?”

“Pardon?” he frowned, tilting his head a bit.

“Read it again,” Kate offered, motioning for Abby to look a little closer at the word in question, circling around it in digital red ink.

“ _ Untied _ States,” Tony read off with a single chuckle, brief and a bit annoyed. “So, the forger was dyslexic?”

“Not just the forger,” Kate smiled.

“Actually,” Chrys spoke up, her tone thoughtful as she eyed the script on screen, “It’s a little known fact that no matter how quickly we read, if the letters of a word are misspelled, but still start with the same letter, our brains automatically translate them into the correct word in our minds. I was just teasing Tony a bit, but if I gave you a scrambled paragraph of every word being messed up, I have no doubt all of you could read it in under a minute.”

Gibbs, seeing the railway off of the topic, shook his head and brought the case back into focus. “Who would pay drug runners with counterfeit money?”

“I know you don’t want to hear this, Gibbs,” the assistant spoke up, looking immediately weary and upset, “But your commander could have bought with bogus bills.. That’s why they killed him.”

“Unlikely, and rather, impossible,” Chrys cut him off sternly, just before Gibbs could speak up. “He’s innocent, and the second we get the bastards who  _ actually _ did this, I want a formal fucking apology from that Local Leo, your division, including you, and the Evening News bitch’s producer to each and every one of the teens who use those basketball courts.”

“Easy, Tiger,” Tony reigned her in with a chuckle, and Abby looked enthralled by the anger on her face, “You always that short of temper with people?”

“Only with publicized humiliation,” Chrys grit out between her teeth, before letting out a groan, “God, I wanted to beat the shit out of the good guy in Death Note after the entire fucking Lind. L. Taylor fiasco, Karma knows I wouldn’t have stopped until he was at death’s door and even then his butler would have had to shoot me.”

“What’s a Death Note?” Abby asked curiously.

“I’ll show you later,” Chrys gave her a smile.

“Focus-!”

“Sorry Gibbs,” the girls murmured in unison.

“Tony,” Gibbs nodded toward the girls in ascent, before looking toward his resident knucklehead, “Where did you find that boat was headed when they dumped the bodies?”

“Well, according to the tide charts, since the bodies washed up at Fort Story, the boat had to have been.. Entering the bay.”

“Well, that narrows it down,” Kate sighed, nonplussed, “Even if we knew the marina, we still don’t have a name or a description of the boat.”

“Take me-!”

The crew looked over at Chrys, and she gave them a smile when they looked surprised, “Take me. I know I’ve seen it more than once. I can do it-!”

“Can you name the boat?” Gibbs asked calmly.

“Not the name,” she frowned, then smiled a bit to clear her uneasiness, “But I’d know the model, I’d just need a line up. Plus the inside is covered in blood and a Hell’s ton of bullet holes.. Not to mention.. There’s a van involved.. The name isn’t coming to me but if I could just..  _ Find _ that stupid marina I’d be able to figure out which surveillance photos I would need to pull and de-digitize-”

“Can you do this, Agent Jordan, or not?” Gibbs demanded swiftly.

“Yes Boss,” Chrys nodded without hesitation.

“Then let’s go,” he jerked his chin toward the door, before walking away. “DiNozzo, get the gear, put it in the car-! Kate-! Get Agent Jordan down to the car and-”

“ _ Wait wait wait-!” _

Chrys shout stopped him just inside the door, and she look rather frantic as she shook her head from side to side, waving her free arm in panic, “No-no-no-no-no-! You need to pull in two guys first-! I can’t screw with the future-! That could fuck up the space time continuum and  _ ruin _ my chance at solving this case-!”

“I understood only half of that,” Gibbs pointed out swiftly, walking back over and gripping her shoulder as she tried to catch her balance, and started to fail, “Alright- okay- do we need to invest in a wheelchair..? With restraints?”

“God, no,” Chrys shuddered, “I’d bite you first. Do not  _ ever  _ restrain me, Boss. I’m telling you this out of your  _ own _ safety..”

“The two men,” Gibbs cut her off, keeping a hold on her shoulder as he forced her to meet his eyes, “Who are they?”

“The bosses of the dead drug runners,” she offered swiftly.

“Descriptions,” he asked next.

“Some mexican drug lord and a wannabe rapper.”

“Frank Trujillo?” Fuller offered quickly, “and Darryl Wilkins-?”

“Sounds about right,” Chrys nodded promptly, “One’s got a tan suit and slicked back hair thing going on and the other barely keeps his pants above his knees.”

“Sounds about right,” Fuller repeated stiffly.

“Get ‘em here by lunch,” Gibbs demanded, moving past Chrys with a pat to her upper back before going back to Kate, seemed he would need to give more instruction with a bit less of an advantage.

“These aren’t a couple of sailors bought buying grass,” Fuller chuckled, disbelieving as he looked over the team. “These are pros. They won’t tell you the names of their mothers.”

“No offense,” Gibbs spoke up swiftly, as if in an off hand comment as the agent butt into the investigation again, “but maybe you just don’t use the right tone of voice with them..”

“Gibbs, in my opinion, is a lot more.. Convincing..” Chrys offered at the man’s startled look, flashing him a sweet smile, “I’d put money on him getting more than just a good deal of detail..”

“If this case pans out like you said it will, I don’t ever want to bet against you,” Tony chuckled.

“I know I never will,” Abby scoffed.

“Bring them in,” Gibbs assured the man. 

Fuller left the room quickly after that.

When he was gone, Gibbs turned his attention to Kate. “Anybody at your old agency you can trust?”

“Trust to what?” Kate turned her head, trying to force back her hair without having to remove and replace the gloves on her hands.

“Find out who forged these notes and where they’ve been circulating?” Gibbs drew the explanation out a bit, though he was more concerned with the typo on the screen. Likely it would be something nasty.

Like every case that involved something seemingly simple, of course it would turn out to be something nasty.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Kate shrugged.

“ _ Without _ telling their boss,” Gibbs hashed out the final detail calmly.

Kate looked up at him in disbelief, and he looked back to her quietly. “Is that a problem?”

“Gee,” Kate sighed, “Now why would  _ that _ be a problem?”

Kate walked out quickly, and Chrys perked up as she tapped Gibb’s shoulder, pointing to the frantically waving Abby with a smile. “Someone looks happy.”

Abby signed something quickly. ‘We have a match’

Gibbs murmurs “Great” as he signs it, Chrys holding two thumbs up as she kept her weight on her good foot, signing back ‘Super girl’. Abby grinned at her, eyes lighting up brightly as she quickly moved her hands again. ‘You know sign?’ Just as Tony asked. “What are you two doing?”

“Communicating,” Gibbs replied offhandedly as he focussed on the goth’s hands as her focus went from the wounded new techie back to him. ‘AK gun kill.’

“Yeah, yeah, her parents were deaf,” Gibbs murmured, barely focussing as he signed, ‘Parents Deaf’ back. He must have been in the habit like Chrys. She used to speak with her mouth and her hands at the table and family gatherings so she could communicate with her youngest cousin, Skittles. CJ did it too, but Reeces always kept his trap shut when he spoke with his hands. Then again, he didn’t talk much in general, so..

“Where’d you learn?” DiNozzo asked with a faint chuckle, clearly curious.

Abby signed back quickly, and Chrys flashed her a grin and another two thumbs up follow by ‘You are awesome’. One of her favorite hand movements.

“She just said the AK-47 rounds that killed the commander.. Came from the same weapon that killed our two drug dealers..”

“Yeah,” DiNozzo murmured, confused, “Why didn’t she just come out and say that..?”

“Because she’s Abby,” Chrys grinned, her hands flowing smoothly as she talked, her weight leant heavily on her good foot as she kept her eyes on the raven bouncing forward, “She’s awesome like that.”

“I didn’t know you sign,” Abby grinned, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I lived with my cousins,” she shrugged, flicking her hands around quickly as she spoke, “My littlest cousin is deaf. Real sweetheart. Obsession with the singer, Sia, likes to copy her hair styles.. Wants to be a fashion designer. I learned so I could talk with her more in depth than I could when I first moved in with my grandparents-”

“Jordan.”

“Sorry,” she said, and signed an apology, then looked down at her hands and slapped them together, hard, letting them sting as she lowered them to her sides with a grunt. “Ugh.. did it again..”

“You sign while you talk?” Abby looked a little confused.

“Habit,” Chrys winced, she must have done that harder than she thought-  _ oww _ ..

“Hey,” Gibbs got Abby’s attention, and she gave him a smile, which he returned as he said, and signed, “Thank you.”

“That was fun Gibbs,” Abby nodded, grinning a bit as she looked between the wounded girl and the retired gunny, “You still got the touch.” Abby brought her hands together, and grinned. ‘I have more.’

“Ooh, she’s got more,” Gibbs nodded, moving to follow her quickly as she moved toward the front of the lab, out of the sliding doors as Tony hurried to follow, and Chrys lagged just a bit behind.

“I picked up some GSR on the smuggler’s hands. Their weapons were fired really recently. The commander’s were clean.” Abby took a seat at her computer, and pulled up the results, just as Chrys hobbled in and perched on one of the bar stools left out at the computer in the center of the room, smiling at the nudge to her ankle and bending down a bit awkwardly to give the fluff a loving rub between the ears, bringing him quickly up to her lap so he could sit upright and watch the process while she played with his paws.

“They said Seadog didn’t deal,” Gibbs stated calmly, before turning and striding from the room.

“Seadog?” Tony repeated, confused, but Abby merely signed, ‘Don’t know’, much to the Italian’s frustration. Abby spun in her seat, and caught the eye of her new friend with a subtle sort of suspicion and excitement. ‘How long have you been signing?’

‘Going on nineteen years’ Chrys gestured back without a second thought. ‘I moved in with my grandparents when I was six. Reese was ten, CJ was four and Skit was only a few months at the time. I didn’t know I was going to need to learn sign until she was pronounced deaf at two. Then I started learning all I could so I could help and teach her. I was second oldest after all, and Reece was so quiet.’

‘Your little cousin name was Skit? Sign name?’

‘No,’ Chrys shook her head, ‘Skit is short for S-K-I-T-T-L-E-S. Candy.’

‘Your cousin was named after candy-?!’ Abby signed this frantically, surprise on her face, but Chrys vocally chuckled, and nodded, lifting her hands up again after adjusting Ren in her lap. ‘Reese is short for R-E-E-S-E-S. C-J is short for C-R-A-C-K-E-R-J-A-C-K-S.’

‘No way-!’ Abby signed.

‘Yes way,’ Chrys grinned, ‘My sign name is too long, I just use  _ Blue-Leaf _ .’

‘Why that?’ Abby signed back.

‘Game Character,’ Chrys actually laughed then, using a hand to pet Ren’s hair. ‘Inspiration for little robot dog I got from game. Gadgets too.’

‘Like grapple gun or laser lipstick?’

‘If I can, I’ll make you one in black.’

‘You rule.’

‘Abby rules,’ Chrys shook her head, ‘Abby is awesome. I’m glad to have met you.’

“That’s so sweet,” Abby finally spoke, prancing over before wrapping the girl in a tight hug, “Ugh, you’re too adorable for your own good. Makes me want to corrupt you.”

“Who says I’m not already corrupted?” 

The comment made Abby pause, and two, almost exactly identical grins settled on the girl’s faces. 

“Oh, we definitely need to hang out sometime,” Abby whispered conspiratorially.

“I’ll show you the game I got the ideas from,” Chrys nodded, squeezing the girl’s hands before moving to grab her walking crutch, and her coffee. Finishing it off, and carefully dropped it into the toxic waste bin, before jerking her chin to the door. “I should go, don’t want Gibbs to think I’m slacking.”

“I’ll be here,” Abby sighed, “Alone and waiting for a cue to work again.”

“Actually,” Chrys sighed, perking up as she remembered and reaching back to dig around, before pulling a small binder out of her bag, “Actually, I was wondering if you could take a look at these swatches, I need to know what fur type you want to make your bloodhound.”

“Oh, I love how you said that,” Abby grinned, accepting the book with a flourish before flicking it open. It was delegated first by animal class like birds, reptiles, then fish and finally mammals. Then by range of size, from a hamster, to a mouse, to a squirrel and so on.

Right on up to a mammoth. Yikes.

“You would make a robotic mammoth?” Abby looked down at the dimensions notes in regular English, how much yard of a certain fabric would be needed, and what grade resistance fabric the base would have to be for something of that size.

“If I got paid enough,” Chrys shrugged. “I mean, museums would kill for stuff like that, right? What would you say about a sentient, giant extinct mammal that could help give tours around the Smithsonian?”

“I’d say,” Abby spoke, her eyes stuck on the techie’s face, “Where do I sign up?”

“My sign-up contract is currently a work on progress but I’m taking advisors on by word of mouth for half credit,” Chrys smiled.

“Nice deal,” Abby nodded, then narrowed her eyes, “What’s the catch?”

“You have to put up with my rather low self esteem and crazy sleeping schedule,” Chrys shrugged, “Not to mention, strange, weird hobbies I will pick up, then put down, and not touch for several months just to pick it up and continue again like I never stopped. I’m obsessed with videogames and I have a pretty good idea when I say I’m rather obsessed with criminal investigative shows, just as much as I am japanese animated television shows and Korean Dramas.”

“Not too bad,” Abby shrugged, “I’ve dated a lot weirder.”

“I know,” Chrys grinned. “I sometimes see the future.”

“Oh, right,” Abby grinned again, before looking back down at the book, and settling on a mangy wolf-breed patch of fur. “I like this one.. The fur is soft enough that I can run my fingers through it, but it’s thick enough that it won’t snag in anything.”

“Any specific color you want him or her dyed?” Chrys asked calmly. “Better question, do you want a him or a her?”

“I’d like a him,” Abby nodded, “But if it turns out a her, I don’t really mind.”

“No problem,” Chrys nodded, marking the patch with a sticky note before tucking it back in her bag and pulling it on her back again. “Well, I should go check in with my search results, I’ll see you later with a Caff-Pow?”

“Thank you, Chrys,” Abby grinned, hugging her again before moving to touch the end of her hair, “Wow, this is surprisingly soft. What conditioner do you use?”

“Home remedy,” Chrys grinned, “I’ll email it to you.”

“Sweet.”

“Later’s Abby-!”

“Later Chrys-!”


	5. Chapter 5

“So, how was your lunch?” Chrys asked just as Gibb’s exit the elevator. She held out the coffee, and he took it with a nod, “Fine. And your’s?”

“I am in  _ love  _ with the cafeteria food,” Chrys chuckled, “The burgers were to die for.”

“That’s one way of saying it,” Gibbs breathed out a light laugh as he walked into the bullpen, Chrys trailing behind at a smooth pace. 

“How was lunch?” Tony asked when Gibbs had strolled inside, watching as his boss downed the majority of his coffee before setting it by his work station. 

“They here yet?” he asked promptly, ignoring the question and moving to walk toward the other elevator. 

“Downstairs waiting,” Tony informed him promptly.

Gibbs heard Tony chuckle slyly behind him, hearing the man’s goading voice as he continued, “You’re not going to  _ tell  _ me about lunch, are ya?”

“No,” Gibbs agreed calmly, stepping into the carrier just as DiNozzo did.

Tony motioned briefly with his hands, looking altogether pleased with what he had signed, but Gibbs took a single glance at the translation, before raising a single eyebrow. “You should wash your hands with soap for saying that.”

The doors shut, and Chrys chuckled as she looked over her computer. The six files she had, she immediately ruled off four without glasses in the profile, before immediately picking out her bomber. 

_ Huh, guess the future-stuff case-dreams on repeat really did come in handy.. _

* * *

“Minus the whole drug cartel, this place is gorgeous,” Chrys murmured, taking in the salty air and smiling through the breeze as it ruffled her fire-engine locks against her skin. Her outfit that day had been a white tank top, with high waisted plum purple shorts and a black cinch belt, with her black trench coat over her arms and shoulders flapping a bit behind her as she walked. Around her neck was her NCIS badge and her anti-hack flash drive, as well as her father’s dog tags and her GPS locator belt she’d given the code for to Abby. There was an emergency button she could press on the buckle if she held the clasp down long enough, just so that it would send an immediate distress signal to both Abby’s and Gibb’s computer. The only thing that could track the belt  _ without _ the button being pressed would be access to her Coil, but she was in the process of making more.

“Can Tony sniff for drugs, now?” The slightly impatient voice of the DEA man with his well-behaved German Shepherd made her grin as she relaxed in the lawn chair Gibbs had told Tony to drag along with the gear, that way she wasn’t on her feet and making her foot worse than it already was. She clicked her tongue twice, and the dog perked up, looking toward her curiously as she held out her hand, and lied it flat, before tipping it over.

The roll-over the dog had done almost instantaneously made her break out in a fit of giggles as Ren chilled on her lap. “Hey-Tony-!” Fuller complained, sounding confused and upset. “What the heck, boy- what’s the matter with you-?”

“Sorry,” Chrys grinned, shrugging when she chirped again and the dog regained his at-alert stance, “I’ve always had a way with animals.” 

“Tony?” DiNozzo repeated, confused.

“Some coincidence, huh?” Fuller smiled, but he looked a little more wary of the weird woman, now. 

“Deck’s been hosed but there’s blood residue,” Gibbs pointed out swiftly, bringing the attention back to the case at hand. “Get me some swabs, DiNozzo. I’ll start the cabin.”

Chrys frowned at the breathy way he had stood up, biting back a retort that she could very well manage to get the swabs while Tony did the cabin, but she would likely be shut down and questioned about it.

And no way in Sam’s hell was she  _ ever _ going to admit to having endearment toward the older, rather fickle man. 

“I’ll bet he’s a real stud,” Tony set down the case of equipment, giving the dog a sweet, loving ruffle of fur over his head and neck.

“He’s neutered,” both Fuller and Chrys had said directly at the same time, making both Fuller and DiNozzo stare at her a moment as she looked over the marina, with her thick black shades over her eyes and a relaxed expression on her face as she tapped her left hand in staccato along the arm of the chair she sat in. 

“That was a little creepy,” Fuller whispered, his voice unsure, “Is she..  _ always  _ like that?”

“Not that.. I’ve seen..” Tony murmured, looking her over a final time, and glancing at her weird, mostly silent dog before hurrying to help Gibbs bag and tag the cabin.

Fuller waited outside with the gimp woman in awkward silence as the boys looked over the cabin. That is, until she had held up a hand for him to see, and counted down from five.

The second the last finger had gone down, the engine burst to life, and Tony stumbled back with a shout. “Woah-! Holy Hell-! What kind of engine is in this thing-?!”

“Drug-runner special,” Fuller filled in quickly as he moved to get a clearer view of Tony. “Blowing out 502 putting out eight hundred horses.”

Gibbs cut the engine, and sauntered back to see his agent admiring the scene. “Main cabin’s a mess. Blood stains, bullet holes, found some bloody bandages on the bunks.. One of ‘em’s hurting..”

“Can I search for drugs?” Fuller asked again.

“We’re just getting started,” Gibbs stated, then perked up as he turned to the reluctant agent working on their case, “What you  _ can _ do is check with the marina office. See if they paid a mooring fee. Strike out at that and start canvassing the marina, find someone who had-”

“Gibbs, I’m a federal agent, I know who and what to ask,” Fuller pointed out calmly.

“I keep forgetting you’re not a dog walker,” Gibbs replied dryly.

“Agent Fuller, if you knew what to do, then why weren’t you doing it when you knew your dog wasn’t needed?” Chrys asked calmly, “I’d be running up and down this block for witness reports if I wasn’t labeled ‘Handicapped’ and sat down. Right now, my computer is going through any and all surveillance tapes in gas stations out fifteen miles, looking for anything suspicious on the roadway coming from this marina, unmarked plates, broken taillights, fishy logos, you name it. And while I wait for  _ those  _ reports, I’m mentally assembling a list of possible-” “Alright, Alright, I get it,” Fuller cut her off, sighing as he shook his head and moved to wander off, “Wonder if she’s related to Mallard..”

“That’s a compliment in my books-!” Chrys yelled out with a smile.

“Wow,” Tony sniffed, wincing at a look at the inside, “They should have hosed down in here..”

“They did just enough to avoid attracting attention of someone walking by,” Gibbs stated calmly.

“We’re going to be bagging and tagging for hours,” Tony scoffed, looking around him again with clear distaste.

Gibb’s eyes zoned out, and Chrys fell quiet as she watched his expression cloud over. As if he were seeing the accident from the Commander’s point of view. And he probably was.

“If I only had the time,” Tony chuckled, tearing Gibb’s from the mental picture, mistaking his dazed eyes for the look of the girls further along the marine, lounging out in bikinis and drinking with their hair and makeup done.

“What?” Gibbs murmured, turning to look at DiNozzo as he quickly realized his mistake and hurried to check his watch. “Do you got the time? My watch is..” he trialed off when his bullshit wasn’t flying, and Chrys chuckled as Gibbs raised an eyebrow. “Going somewhere DiNozzo?”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, firm and sure, “Back to work.”

Chrys laughed outright, and tipped her black fedora to the older agent with a smile of her pink-tinted lips, “Hiya Boss.”

“Anything out there, Jordan?” he asked.

“I’m waiting for a hit, Boss,” she shrugged, “Unless you can get me a witness description, I can’t look deeper.”

“Can’t you use your “psychic” hoodoo?” he demanded, a little annoyed as he frowned at her. She shrugged, then jerked her thumb toward the direction that Fuller had walked in, “Good luck holding  _ that _ in court, Boss. ‘How did you come upon the suspect’s vehicle and whereabouts? How do we know you’re not working with them, you sketchy little brat’?” she mimicked a throaty, stuck-up judge’s voice, before pretending to mimic a soft-spoken, timid prosecuting officer. ‘W-Well your honor.. W-we decided to c-cons-sult the r-rather m-mentally unbalanced psychic on Agent J-Jethro G-Gibbs’s t-t-t-team, your honor..’..” she ended the skit as she sat up, holding her hands out as if expecting applause, and raising her eyebrows high up when Gibbs had made a snorting sound, and hurried to cover a smirk as he moved to start looking over it again.

_ Holy shit, she made Gibbs laugh.. _

_ The world was ending- _

“I have earned that sherbet in the fridge,” she whispered to herself, grinning to herself brightly as she brought her coil up to her chest, out just about eight inches before she reached with her right hand to adjust it on the left wrist, before nodding, “Alright.. Let’s see..”

* * *

“Nothing from the marina office, but Jenny and Nancy were very helpful,” Fuller informed them as he and Tony trotted back to the boat again, his backup on his and his dog’s tail almost literally.

“Jenny and Nancy,” Tony, the human, repeated, confused.

“The girls on the sloop over there,” Fuller pointed out with a shit-eating grin, Tony following his line of sight to the two bikini-clad women he’d seen earlier, silently seething at the implication that the DEA washup had gotten to chat up pretty girls while he was bagging soiled bandages and five-day-old soiled undergarments.

“They’re sailing that beauty all the way down the Intercoastal Waterway to Miami for the owner,” Fuller explained.

“All the way to Miami,” DiNozzo murmured.

“They’re going to  _ be  _ there by the time you tell me how they were helpful,” Gibbs cut into the conversation swiftly, making Chrys chuckle at his side. He glanced down at her briefly, but she was typing away at her sleek, flat brick thing, making a little tapping noise with every movement of her thumbs on the flat surface. He didn’t bother asking.

“When they docked yesterday,” Fuller asked after a moment of wetting his lips. Even to the most proud of men, Gibbs was an absolute nightmare on efficiency, “there was someone on this boat.”

“Get a description?” Gibbs asked.

“Late twenties,” Fuller offered, unconvinced, “glasses, short hair..” It sounded too much like a question for Gibbs’s taste. “Gay, or low on testosterone. They waved,” he tossed a smile at DiNozzo, who shared the smile when the message was received, “he ignored them.”

“No way,” Tony chuckled.

“That’s what I said,” Fuller grinned.

“So, he’s focused on what he was doing,” Chrys cut in, getting the smiling men’s attention with a bit of a glare as she lowered her glasses a bit down her nose to look up at them with serious tri-colored eyes. “For all you know, this man could be doing something big.. And I’m thinking it’s a little more important than the hot number in the red bikini on the S.S. Screw Me. What else did they see? Getaway vehicle-? Make, model, license plate? Did they get a goddamned headcount? Details-!”

When Fuller looked more than a little too intimidated to answer her, Gibbs chimed in. “What did they say?”

“Guy had a couple cell phones,” Fuller offered after he peeled his eyes away from the woman’s serious, nearly deadly ones as she slid the glasses back on and moved back to swiping her finger left and right on her flat brick. “When he wasn’t making calls.. He was working a laptop.. Then about 1:00.. Jenny starts grilling some prawns..” he turned to Tony then, a little more than weary with the gimp woman nearby but excited nonetheless by his factoid for the man he was coming to be rather swell acquaintances with, “By the way, they’re Aussies..”

“Aussies, I live Aussie..” Tony whimpered, then stopped, seeing his boss’s serious face and clearing his throat. “So, uh, Jenny was grilling prawns?”

“Saw a white van pull up here, guy was really excited to see the driver.. She said they hugged a lot..” Fuller pointed to the crowd of civilians upon the fence, only for the woman at their waists to shout out ‘Finally-!’ cutting of Tony’s “Gay” before she was reaching for her dog and picking him up to sit eye-level with her. “Ren, search all gas stations within a fifteen mile radius, camera wise for white vans. I want the total number of them listed out by direction of travel, okay?”

“You’re talking to a-” Fuller started, but stopped when he’d heard a male, definitely confident voice say, “Of course.” “That- Dog-! Talk-!”

“Easy, Fuller,” Tony warned him calmly, gripping his shoulder when he’d nearly tumbled right into the marina, “It’s just a robot.” “Robot,” Fuller repeated slowly.

“Mhm,” Gibbs hummed, nodding toward the spot where the van sat before pressing his lips tightly together. “Did they describe the driver?”

“Same look as glasses,” Fuller offered, gradually regaining himself but sending unsure glances to the female in front of them, petting her fingers through the life-like dog’s fur. “Without the glasses.. The brought some heavy suitcases from the boat to the van. Then they helped a third guy with a bandaged leg into the van. He must have been in the cabin the whole time- then they drove off..”

“Anything more on the van other than the color?” Tony asked dubiously.

“Nope, I tried,” Fuller sighed, “All they could remember was that it was white.”

There was a moment of silence as the two special agents thought it over, before Fuller spoke again. “Can Tony sniff the boat, now?”

“It’s all yours,” Gibbs turned around, accepting the thermos that was held out to him and unscrewing the cap to take a heavy sip with a bit of a nod.

* * *

“I’m telling you, Boss,” Tony explained as he and his superior shut the back of the van’s doors, “Aussie chicks-? Definitely different than American chicks. A guy’s even got to approach them differently.” He continued, a little ruefully after that, “I’d have gotten more then the color of their van out of them..”

“I know I’m going to regret this, DiNozzo,” Gibbs spoke up, internally sighing as the woman leaning on the vehicle just behind him started to chuckle under her breath, Tony perking up immediately at his boss’s tone of voice. “..but follow up on Fuller’s interview..”

Tony’s smile was straight out of the cat-and-the-cream, before he chuckled, happily, and clapped his hands together, rubbing them in excitement, “Thank you,  _ Boss _ -! I’ll be sure to be very.. Very thorough..”

“See that you do, Tony,” Chrys grinned, “I got eighteen hits on white vans in the fifteen mile radius, I’d love to narrow it down..”

“You already have that?” Gibbs raised his eyebrow, surprised, “Haven’t you been sitting here all morning?”

She held up her wrist with the watch, then pointed to her dog. “I’ve got a super computer on my arm and an Artificial Intelligence going through results with me. I think I’ve got it covered in any and all situations..”

“Let’s get back then, see what Kate’s got,” he sighed, putting a hand to her upper back and leading her around to the passenger side. They would pick up Tony later. “Come on.”

“Alright, alright,” Chrys murmured, “Bossy today, huh?”

“I don’t like this case,” he pointed out calmly.

“Neither do I,” she agreed, shifting so her leg was fixed and only mildly surprised that Gibbs double checked before carefully closing the door and going to his own side. “I’m calling terrorists on this one. You?”

He didn’t answer.

* * *

 

“Hey,” Gibbs greeted as they entered the bullpen, Chrys being helped along at a smooth pace beside him. “Get anything from your friend?” Gibbs made it just inside the work area before he took notice of her nervous, ashamed expression as she answered “Yep.” He swung his eyes to the man sitting at his desk, lounging in his chair, and sighed through his nose, his voice low, “You disappoint me, Kate.”

He helped Chrys get to her desk, allowing the woman to sit on her own before he turned to the balding man lounging in his personal space.

“Me too, Gibbs,” Fornell grunted, flicking his eyes to the standing, nervous former SS agent. “I thought she knew better than to trade down.” Kate looked away from both, and Chrys offered her a small, encouraging smile with a shake of her hands. Nothing that the woman could have done about it. “Oh?” Fornell sounded surprised, “Is this yours?”

Gibbs didn’t say a word, and the two men took a moment to wait until Fornell had gotten out of his chair and Gibbs had retaken his seat before they begrudgingly addressed the issue. Or, in this case, Gibbs’s words to Kate cutting the silence. “You seriously need to rethink your definition of the word ‘friend’.”

“If I were in Marcy’s shoes I would have done the same thing,” Kate defended quickly,

“Careful agent Todd,” Fornell warned her calmly, “You’re running out of job options..”

“Since I once again have the pleasure of your company, Agent Fornell,” Gibbs cut into the two’s silent look quickly, almost impatient, but almost completely at ease. “We’re into more than phony Franklin’s and dead drug dealers.”

“Much more,” Fornell confirmed calmly.

“Called it,” Chrys sighed.

Kate moved to hover over her desk, watching as Chrys typed around quickly at what looked like a screen with a mugshot and personal information on it, typing into a seperate program that looked like it was a spinning, virtual green-line globe.

“Those serial numbers matched a batch of bogus bills passed by nine eleven hijackers,” Fornell ignored her completely, barely giving her a glance before speaking up to the man sitting at his desk with vague impatience. “Your killers aren’t drug dealers.. They’re terrorists.”

“Called it-!” Chrys called again.

“Anything to add, Special Agent Jordan?” Gibb asked calmly. 

“I’ve got a program running to locate one of the suspects as we speak,” Chrys grinned, shutting the laptop with a final click and moving to get to her feet, “I’m guessing Fornell set up a conference call? Or are you fidgeting because you can’t find the lavatory?”

“Watch it, Jordan,” Fornell warned lowly, irritation clear on his face, “I still don’t trust you, and I’m wondering how the hell you managed to get yourself set up here, don’t think I won’t be keeping a very close eye on you.”

“Shove off,” Chrys rolled her eyes, allowing Kate to help her stand after a small struggle and move to adjust herself onto her crutch. “I still don’t like you. Don’t talk to me unless it’s an urgent issue.”

“I think this issue is pretty urgent,” Fornell grit out.

“Fornell,” Gibbs admonished, simply, moving over to the woman getting out of the bullpen and making her way to the elevator, “Let’s get to that call you put out? Or was she wrong about that? We did just come in..”

Fornell didn’t say a word, but finally lead the group toward the elevators. Gibbs gave Chrys a pat on the shoulder before getting in the elevator, and she perked up a little at the contact before grinning to herself in delight.

_ This life wasn’t so bad nowadays. _


	6. Chapter 6

“Since 9/11, the Bureau has compiled a worldwide terrorist database incorporating files from over 70 foreign intelligence services.” The FBI director on screen listed off calmly, while Chrys stood beside Gibbs on his left, Fornell on his right, and Kate stood on Chrys’s left. The NCIS director was directly in front of all of them as they talked one-on-one. “Any prints that are lifted from that boat that are left by a known terrorist will get a hit.”

“Why didn’t we have access to this database, Charlie?” Tom Morrow asked flippantly.

“All you had to do was ask, Tom,” Charlie, in question, shrugged.

“If your agent Fornell hadn’t been here to get us priority,” Tom continued, showing his irritation clearly, “my feeling is, I’d still be asking.”

“Perhaps I should leave him there,” Charlie joked dryly.

“Please don’t,” Chrys mumbled, sounding pained as she nudged Gibbs side, “You’re kicking him out later, right? I don’t like him.” “We’re kicking him out later,” Gibbs nodded in confirmation, the corner of his mouth twitching before he turned his eyes back to the conversation in front of them.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Charlie,” Tom sighed, “Just hardwire us into this terrorist database.”

“Sorry Tom,” Charlie denied swiftly, “We like to monitor who’s accessing our data.”

“ _ Dumbasses _ ,” Chrys grumbled. She received a pinch to her side, and nearly jumped a foot in the air when she swung her accusing glare at Gibbs. He didn’t look the least bit bothered by her stare, his hands on his hips as if he hadn’t moved. She wanted to say something, but wisely kept silent.

“Hard to keep a list like this to yourself, Charlie,” Tom sounded more than a tad bit annoyed at this point, but he was smothering it, well. “I’m sure  _ when _ our colleagues who head the other agencies hear of this.. They’re going to be pounding on your door.”

“He’s such a badass,” Chrys murmured under her breath. Gibbs let out a short breath she almost counted as a snort.

It was now her life mission to make this guy belly-ache laugh about something.

Life goals: set.

“Oh, hell, why not?” Charlie agreed after a pause of consideration, as if it were an honor to bee giving this information away, “We’re all on the same team.. But Tom..” his voice turned warning at this, “..if our colleagues hear this.. I’ll pull your plug, and NCIS priority will follow the Sandusky Ohio Fire Department.”

“Understood,” Tom nodded firmly, then, reluctantly, “Thanks Charlie.” Tom cut the link, and gave the group a passing glance, “Good Luck.”

“Thanks Mr Morrow-!” Chrys called brightly, waving her arm in farewell, and watching as he paused at the stairs, turned around, and gave her a nod, before returning to his office trek.

“He’s cool,” Chrys grinned toward Kate, seeing her concern and shrugging, “Come on, let’s go catch some bad guys.”

“How old are you again?” Fornell demanded slowly, as if he were talking to a child.

“I’d watch that tone old man,” Chrys spoke quietly, “Shorter people are more temperamental because we’re closer to hell. Keep that in mind, hm?”

“Jordan?”

“Yes Boss?” Chrys perked up dutifully, a smile wiping away the bored, lazy glare from her previous statement. “I already put in a request for your coffee to be delivered to your desk, should be there by the time we get back. The scans arebeing set up by the workers in here and as soon as I have an ID I’ll work on the narrowing.” 

“Seriously..?” Fornell murmured, looking at the 180 she pulled before shaking his head.

“How long to scan the entire database?” Gibbs turned his attention to her, rather than him, and Fuller seemed more than a little annoyed by the shift in dynamic. 

“Considering the average time with all of your sucky, backed-up government computers, I’d say.. Couple hours..? I can have it by six if we can get the tox screen from Abby, be easier to narrow it down with a witness report from Tony and by the time I line up all the matches and activate ‘God’s Eye’.. I should have a visual on this asshole in a matter of two hours.”

“Thank you, Jordan,” Gibbs nodded, patting her upper back as he passed her and moved to go back to his desk, he still needed to look through the papers she’d given him the the other, day, he’d only gotten a cursory glance before they’d gone boat hunting this morning.

“Later Boss-!” Chrys chirped.

“You’re so.. Cheery with him..” Kate murmured, concerned as she helped the woman to the elevator on their left, “Doesn’t he.. Intimidate you..?”

“Hell no-!” Chrys reared back, surprised, “Are you intimidated by him? There’s nothing to be afraid of with him unless you have something to hide. I’ve got plenty to hide, but nothing of national security.”

“Like..?” Kate asked, idly, but her concern was a tad bit obvious.

“Well,” Chrys shrugged, “I suppose you could say I want absolutely no one but my future children to know the recipes of my blue-ribbon fudge and smoked macaroni. I will die with those secrets if I wind up childless.”

* * *

“You know him?” Gibbs was back in the room with Kate, and Chrys, the latter having migrated into a spinny chair offered from the tech support and her laptop in her lap while her dog seemingly dozed at her feet. Fornell still stalked them in the background as the prints and pictures ran.

“No,” Kate shook her head.

Chrys was already pulling the image from the computer in front of her and syncing it with the image on her screen up to God’s Eye.

Fast and Furious was a wonderful inspiration.

“The name is Saudi, same as most of the 9/11 hijackers,” Fornell informed him briskly.

“What’s the red star?” Gibbs demanded swiftly. Fornell looked almost frantic as he started to walk toward the control rom, “Active case with a high priority.”

He brought the blue information sheet up on the monitor above him, and quickly started reading off. “He was one of the foreign terrorists wanted for the UN bombing in Baghdad. Believed to have slipped out of Iraq through Syria three weeks ago. Whereabouts unknown.”

“Find him, Jordan-!” Gibbs called as he moved to march from the large screen, to the one in front of Fornell, before moving to march up the steps.

“Aye, Boss-!” Chrys grinned, “Keep your heat packed and a car ready to go. The second I get a visual you’re going to need to book it-!”

* * *

“It worked-!” Tony exclaimed as he entered the office, shrugging off his backpack and setting it on his chair as he addressed Gibbs, who was followed quickly by Fornell, then Kate, who was helping a hobbled Chrys follow them. A tiny blue dog was seen struggling to keep pace with the procession, and had it been any other time, he would have taken a second to laugh. “I had Jenny and Nancy grill some prawns. They don’t call them shrimp in Australia.. Sip a really nice Chardonnay with a wonderful bouquet.. I didn’t drink-! Just sniffed.”

“What the hell’s he ranting about?” Fornell demanded cluelessly.

“I should have known better,” Gibbs muttered, marching over to his desk while Tony hurried to defend himself. “No-no-no-! Boss, I had the girls do exactly what they were doing when the white panel van pulled in.. jogged their memory.. It worked-!”

“Great-!” Chrys exclaimed, plopping down into her seat with a thankful smile toward Kate before quickly pulling her laptop from her bag and opening it up to her program, “Now I can narrow down the search area with a van description. What have you got?”

“They remembered the driver was wearing a company uniform,” Tony offered quickly.

“Awesome,” Chrys grinned, knocking off three of the eighteen vans right off the bat, “Alright, I need a logo name. The uniform is most likely greyish blue, so I’m shoving off any cars that either have no logos or the drivers are women.”

“Water company, Phone company?” Kate dug at him, a little impatient, but tensions were running high. “Jefferson Power, Vantage Cable,” Gibbs offered, hoping to jog some sort of response, a glance at the newest member showed she was paused over her laptop, eyebrows narrowed darkly and her mouth pulled into a frown. 

“Milkman, Breadman?” Fornell contributed, though it was more of a vague idea tossing at this point. “Hell that van could be from any of a hundred different comercial county or state outfits.”

“It’s a start,” Gibbs sighed, clicking through his email as fast as he could.

“I’m not done,” Tony pointed out quickly, “holding up a thick black VHS tape for them to see before hurrying to put it into the plasma’s connected player. “I pulled this videotape from the security camera at the Mobil station on the road out of the marina.”

“Oh, that’s really smart Tony,” Kate actually sounded surprised, and Chrys’s fingers nearly blurred as she started tightening in her searching base. 

“Any guy could have done it,” Tony brushed off the praise with feigned ease, though he had a proud smile on his face at the compliment, though Kate’s expression had flickered to immediate annoyance at his response. “Guy?” she repeated, smirking lightly, “Learn to shut up when you’re ahead.”

“What time did the girls say they saw the van?” Gibbs asked swiftly.

“Ah,” Tony nodded, “Around 13:00.”

They all moved to get to the back elevator, but a ping from Chry’s laptop and a gasp had them stopping in sync.

“Headshot-!” Chrys cheered, throwing her arms up with a holar of excitement before she was sent tipping back with a shout. “Shit-Shit- aahh-!” She hit the floor with a crash, and both Kate and Tony had hurried to help haul her up while she clutched the back of her head, “Mother of Candy-  _ oww _ ..” “What happened?” Gibbs demanded swiftly. “That better not be a videogame.”

“It’s not,” she sniffed, clutching her head tighter as she battled the ache while Tony helped Kate right her chair and her in it, “I hacked into his camera feed at Thirteen hundred at the Marina.. Got a clear visual of the guy’s face, this is our guy. Next time he opens his laptop I’ll have an immediate location.”

“Way to go, Chrys,” Tony beamed, patting her shoulder but jerking back when she hissed, “Oh fuck.. I need percocet..” she muttered, “And a shot of something strong.”

“Maybe later,” Gibb’s pat her shoulder once, before grabbing the shoulders of her chair, and pulling them out from behind her desk, wheeling her way from her desk until she was in front of the monitor for easy access. Chrys merely clung to the seat of her chair for dear life while she hovered her feet above the ground a good eight inches for safety. 

“Keep running it through. We need to figure out which van that was, and what company,” Gibbs stated firmly as the elevator opened, and Abby strode in quickly with a bounce to her pigtails as she hurried to take a look at the screen, “If this group has connections with national, state or county company, I want it burnt out and taken care of.”

“Are we submitting to the Sundance Film Festival?” Abby asked jokingly.

“Best Terrorist Film Category,” Gibbs replied off handedly, making Chrys chuckle from her spot directly in front of him as he leaned his weight on her chair, eyeing the tape intently. 

“Sweet,” Abby grinned, then spoke up, her voice a bit preppy as she relayed her results. “So, if anyone’s interested, the only prints off the boat I could match were the druggies in the cooler.”

“Not the Commander?” Gibbs intoned.

“Negatory,” Abby nodded firmly.

“We got a match on a terrorist,” Kate informed her quickly.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Tony frowned, a little offended, but mostly amused. They were close to the end of this, they all could taste it.

“Who could get a word in,” Kate scoffed.

“I ran those prints through the Bureau,” Abby informed them, annoyed, “I got nada.”

“You did not have access to the full database,” Gibbs informed her with a slight smile. He knew she would be both intrigued and annoyed, with their guest.

“ _ You’re _ holding out on us,” Abby pointed to the aging man beside her, smiling sardonically with a tut on her tongue, wagging her finger in disappointment. “That is not nice.”

“Abby,” Chrys called, flashing the girl a smile and a wink, “Remind me to give you a hug when I’m released from my current post. You just told him off for me. Thank you.”

“No probs, newbie,” Abby grinned, black lips perking up in the corners to show her smile.

“Woah-! There it is-!” Gibb’s shout made Tony fumble for the buttons to stop it. “Yep,” the younger man murmured.

“Run it back,” Gibbs demanded quickly. 

Tony clicked around with the remote, until they zoomed it in on a slim, well-known logo.

“Jefferson Power,” Gibbs read off.

“Gibbs called it,” Chrys grinned, reaching up a hand and patting the boss’s twice before perking up in her seat, narrowing her eyes, “Van number, before you ask, is Eight-thirty-one.”

“They’ve gotta be going after the power grid,” Kate frowned, her voice concerned.

“I found traces of C-4 in the stuff you bagged on the boat,” Abby informed them quickly.

“Thank God,” Fornell sighed, “They’re just gonna try to blow something up.”

“When the hell is that ever the case?” Chrys snapped, annoyed as she shot him a glare over her shoulder. The rest of the group glared at him too, so he spoke up quickly, pleading his case.

“We’ve been sweating terrorists hacking into our power grid distribution software. That could shut down half the country. C-4 indicates, a hard target- a power plant- a substation- distribution node- which are all under tight security.”

“Fifty bucks on them trying to do the blackout thing right now,” Chrys growled. “I need my laptop, Boss-! If he’s on, I can stall him-!” “DiNozzo-!” Gibbs barked, Tony bolting away from the player to grab the slim machine carefully from the desk before hurrying back and handing it over to the girl, who quickly put it into her lap, and started to slide her finger along the flat square on the machine toward the bottom.

“Shit-shit-shit,” Chrys hissed softly, “Come on.. I just had the son of a bitch, open your damn laptop..”

“Which are about to get a hell of a lot tighter,” Fornell murmured, quickly pulling out his phone to make some calls.

“There’s a good chance that driver works for Jefferson power,” Gibbs stated quickly, turning his attention to his agents.

“I hope he does,” Fornell scoffed, “We’ll have him before sundown.”

“We don’t have that long,” Chrys huffed, “We have till  _ maybe _ .. Seven thirty..?”

“Thanks,” Fornell offered when he finished the call, his voice clipped a bit as he nodded toward the team. “...You’ve all done a terrific job.”

Fornell walked away, and Chrys continued to type at furious speeds as she forced her way into a stray, idly scanning satellite. Clearing traces of her use and pushing the screen on their end to blacken and silence, she hurriedly turned use over to herself and began scanning quickly where she last got a hit. “Come on.. Come on..”

“I feel like I just kissed my sister,” Tony frowned awkwardly.

“I didn’t know you had a sister, Tony,” Abby pointed out, with a faint, curious smile.

“I don’t,” Tony dismissed it, “I was fantasizing.”

“I need music to do that,” Abby chuckled, walking away as Kate shook her head at their comments.

“Fornell’s got target fixation,” Gibbs murmured, displeased as he went around his desk to look through his things.

“Come again?” Kate frowned.

“It’s when a fighter pilot gets so fixed on his target that he.. flies right into it,” Tony explained calmly, gesturing a bit with his hands.

“Ah,” Kate nodded, understanding, “Like you and women?” She chuckled, getting a face from Tony while Gibbs kept his eyes on the screen.

“The August blackout was caused by a tree falling on some power lines, right?” Gibbs asked quietly.

“Something like that,” Kate confirmed with a shake of her head.

“Well, Hell,” Gibbs scoffed, a bit of a complaint on his lips as he moved to walk out from behind his desk again, leaving their red-headed techie to sit with her nose buried deep into her little virtual world. “These guys don’t need C-4, an axe’ll do-!”

“Okay,” Kate spoke up after clicking through her open computer, “Here’s a timeline of the August fifteen blackout.”

“Put it on the plasma, Kate,” Gibbs directed her, his eyes on said screen in question as he returned to his place behind Chrys, hands fisted into the back of her chair as he looked over the loading images.

“It started at Eastlake, Ohio at 14:00, and by the time it reached Indian Point in Buchanan, New York, all the northeast and most of Canada was dark.”

“Pull the state’s power grid up off the internet,” Gibbs insisted calmly.

“Woah,” Kate murmured, finding a link and immediately clicking it, “Look at this-!” She synced her screen back up to the plasma, showing off the article Labeled ‘Could Virginia Blackout the Country?’

“It says that three key failures in Virginia could cascade until every state from here to the Rockies is dark,” Tony read off quickly, his tone hitching in obvious unease.

“Yeah, more than  _ says _ ,” Kate insisted, almost angry and frantic as she hurried to scroll down, “It shows  _ how-! _ Wait- take down those three flashing nodes simultaneously and you take out the entire eastern power grid.”

Gibbs paused, thought it over, and moved to walk over to look at Kate’s direct screen, “All we have to do is stop them from taking out  _ one _ ?”

“It looks that way,” Kate agreed, “I mean, if any two failed at the same time, the slack can be picked up.. There will be blackouts, but it won’t cascade.”

“Finally,” Chrys sighed, her hands cramping just a tad as she cracked her neck, and pulled up a directory, syncing it to Ren quickly before chirping a whistle. “Ren-!”

“Understood,” he called back calmly. 

“Boss-!” Chrys called, seeing Gibbs expression of utter tension and speaking a bit less frantically, watching her tone, “I have eyes on our guy. Satellite, yeah, but I’ve got it. I’m also working on accessing his laptop from here, doing what I can to slow it down. He’s the closest one, thank candy, and Ren has directions programed into him for you to get to him right now. You just need a gun and the car ready.”

“Thank you, Jordan,” Gibbs hurried to get his jacket from his desk, as well as his bag and his gun and clip from his desk while both Kate and Tony scrambled to do the same. “Tony get the car, Kate get the dog-!”

“On it-!” Tony practically bolted for the garage, and Kate was careful in scooping up the pliant Japanese Spitz before hurrying along to catch up. Gibbs stopped beside Jordan before he left, glancing at her cast and her serious expression as she glared at her screen, before rubbing his hand over her upper back and moving to jog out of the bullpen. “Mind the phones, Jordan-!”

Chrys sat in silence as she straightened out, biting her lip a little as she closed her eyes, took a deep breath in, and let it out, before pulling out her cell, and clicking Abby’s office contact.

“Hey, what’s up?” Abby asked curiously, “Something happen?”

“I’ve got eyes on the terrorist,” Chrys breathed out heavily, “Gibbs, DiNozzo and Miss Todd ran out to clear him. They have my dog and I’m silently panicking that I may have messed up the future.”

“You wanna come up so I can doodle on your cast?” Abby asked curiously.

Chrys couldn’t help but chuckle, and sighed as she moved to shut her laptop. “Alright, I’ll wheel my way up. Mind if I use the chair?”

“Not at all,” Abby chuckled, “We still need to talk about your signing, too.”

“I want to talk about you, too,” Chrys smiled as she packed her laptop in her bag, before using her crutch as an oar as she made her way sliding toward the elevator with her backpack in her lap.

She got a few looks, but she didn’t really care.

She wanted to relax with Abby for a little while and get her cast doodled on.

* * *

“That was dramatic, and I am  _ so  _ glad that I liked computers as a kid,” Chrys sighed as she and her boss stood outside the chain link fence, the area inside lit up brightly as dozens of teens and young adults worked around the basketball hoop with shouts of joy and laughter.

“Me too,” he chuckled.

“You know,” she murmured, “One day I’m going to get you to laugh so hard you’ll have to sit down..”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” he sniffed, scratching his nose before he flicked his eyes back to the woman reading off the corrected story.

“She’s.. Decently nice,” Chrys admit after a moment, “Not my type, but at least she agreed to try getting it published right.”

“Your type?” Gibbs repeated quietly.

“Mhm,” she grinned, “Not my type.”

“How was that?” The woman joined them a few minutes later after she instructed her cameraman to get more footage of the kids playing ball. “Very nice,” Gibbs nodded, turning to face her when she had gotten close enough to be toe-to-toe with the man. Chrys stood back behind him with a smile. He may be, as he put it, a bastard, but he was an attractive bastard.

“I can’t guarantee that my producer will air it,” the lady warned him.

“You’re trying,” Gibbs pointed out, “That’s a start.”

It was quiet for a moment, and Gibbs let out a breath. “Thank you, Diane.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled, shaking his hand firmly as they exchanged slight smiles. “Jethro.”

“Later Boss,” Chrys waved him off as he took in the sight of his ride, a silver convertible with a woman driving, her hair short and bright red.

“Get home safe, Jordan,” he demanded briskly, tapping her shoulder in a job well done before walking toward his awaiting chariot. Diane watched him go with a smile on her lips, shaking her head. “Wow.”

“I know,” Chrys sighed, “You’re not the first, and definitely not the last, honey, don’t feel bad in any way.”

“You work with him?” Diane asked quietly.

“New recruit,” Chrys smiled. “But I’ve known of him a lot longer. He’s a good guy.”

“So I see,” Diane whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the first episode. I promise with further chapters Chrys will have more on-scene time and involvement, but being injured she is logically useless in a fight.
> 
> Comments? 
> 
> Suggestions?
> 
> Can't wait to hear from you. :)


	7. Immortals

“Boo-yah-!” Chrys walked, yes,  _ walked _ , into the bullpen with a grin, with only a slight hobble to her step. “Coffee-!”

“Thank you, Chrys,” Kate grinned, looking down at the woman's leg with surprise, where a black, two-piece brace was holding it together tightly. She was walking rather normal. “No more cast?”

“No more cast,” Chrys grinned, tapping the side of her head with two fingers, “I expressed my dislike toward the stiff appendage to my issued physicist and he decided I’d get an X-Ray to see the healing progress.. I’m almost completely healed at this point, he wants me to wear the brace as a safety precaution.”

“No way,” Kate grunted, looking envious and disbelieving, “You got shot twice in the leg, and you broke it in more than two places, how are you  _ almost completely _ healed?”

“What can I say?” Chrys grinned, “Monster genes run in the family.”

“Wow, Jordan~!” Tony took to calling her by her last name, off-handedly mentioned it was a bit more feminine and easy to remember, causing a small argument to break out between himself and Kate. “Look at you-!” he exclaimed, holding her shoulders as he stepped around her, “No more skull-print cast?”

“Nah,” she shrugged, “I put it in a box of memorabilia. My first cast on the job. Plus Abby and Kate did such wonderful work on it I couldn’t throw it out, so I shucked the stuffing out of it, dipped it in resin and put it in in my attic.”

“And your attic is for.. All your loose ends?” Tony filled in, accepting the cup she held out with a whispered thank you and a grateful smile before he took a sip. “Aah-! Perfect, as usual.”

“So to speak,” Chrys grinned. “I have lots of stuff in that house, most of which I bought earlier this week. Speaking of which.. Are either of you good at painting walls?”

“Hey-!” Tony perked up, grinning, “I can help you paint.” She moved past him with a nod as she moved over to Gibb’s desk, where he was on a current call. She set his coffee down for him, and he gave her a nod before she had tuned back into Tony and Kate, just in time to hear the woman say, “-and that’s  _ all _ you’re after DiNozzo-? You sure?”

“I’d be happy to cook if you’re hungry,” Chrys supplied quickly, smiling when Kate looked surprised, and extending the invitation, “We still haven’t had that group dinner yet, right? Maybe we can have it at my house sometime after it gets fixed up.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Kate pitched in lightly, shooting Tony a smirk when he’d glared at her and sidling up to Chrys to give her a smile and a pat to the upper arm. “I can bring a veggie tray- we can make it a party-! A housewarming party-!”

“It’ll be a while,” Chrys warned her, frowning a little. “I ordered a lot of overseas commissioned furniture. Pretty sure it will be at least a month before I get my bed..”

“Where are you sleeping now?” Tony asked, curious, ignoring the swat Kate gave to his arm and keeping his expression neutral when the redhead shrugged. “Air mattress, sometimes the couch when I get too lazy to go upstairs.”

“Oh, I hear that,” Tony sighed, shuddering at memories of being fresh out of college and nearly broke before his first nine-to-five job. 

“We got a case-!” Gibbs called, setting the phone down quickly and fumbling a bit with his keyboard. Chrys wordlessly walked around the desk and stood to his side, tapping his shoulder when his mouth seemed to press tightly shut in agitation before his expression cleared as he looked back to her. Holding up her hands, she briefly wiggled her fingers, before tapping his shoulder again and hunkering down to type at his desktop. In a matter of seconds, she had taken the file attached to the email sent to him, opened it, blown up the attached location map and put it on the plasma. “There you go, Boss.”

He sighed, but shook his head, and flicked his attention to his two agents currently looking over the screen, expressions serious.

“The body was in the water less than twenty four hours. N-A-S Key West tagged and bagged and shipped it over.

“We have an I.D?” Tony was scribbling the date, and small details onto a pad and paper for his report later. Kate was still looking over the digital map.

“Seaman.. Russell McDonald. Nineteen. Assigned to the U.S.S.  _ Foster _ ,” Gibbs read off calmly.

“Destroyer, Spruance class,” Kate listed off automatically. Chrys grinned a bit and offered her a high-five over the desk. Kate gave her a quick one, sharing the smile.

“Hey,” Gibbs smiled a little, his eyes a bit lighter as he looked toward the brunette, “Look at that. New kid on the block’s been doing her homework.” There was a moment where Kate took the praise and Gibbs nodded, turning back to the file on his computer. “U.S.S.  _ Foster _ .. Left Roosevelt Roads Naval Station two days ago en route to Norfolk..” Gibbs got up from his seat mid-way through his sentence, and moved to go to the plasma’s opened map, where a small blinking dot and a lit-up route line were highlighted for their convenience. “This is her position now.. The body was found here in the Bahamas..”

“Roosevelt Roads..” Tony repeated, looking up from his notes with a flicker of recognition, then steadily growing excitement. 

“Yeah,” Gibbs confirmed.

“That’s Puerto Rico..” Tony murmured, blinking widely as his mind caught up with the implications of the mission.  _ Hell Yes-! _

“Yeah,” Gibbs nodded again, with the same tone, uncaring of his agent’s gradually increasing enthusiasm as the younger male struggled to remain straight-faced.

“I love Puerto Rico,” Tony explained swiftly, dismissing his sudden interest with a soft clear of his throat. 

“I’m glad,” Gibbs deadpanned.

“No, Boss, you don’t understand,” Tony piped up, his stone mask slipping as he let a bit of young, pubescent boy shine through in his excitement. Chrys couldn’t help but grin at his expression. He looked adorable when he smiled like that. “I  _ love _ Puerto Rico..”

“You’ve been there a lot?” Kate asked curiously, though it was a little subdued as she waited for the inevitable topic that came with this particular young man. Girls. Bikinis. Alcohol.

Repeat.

“No, no, that’s just it, I’ve never been there-!” Tony exclaimed quickly, nearly bouncing in place as his volume rose. Chrys actually laughed a little, earning a glance from her boss, but nothing more. “I mean,” Tony continued, his voice picking up speed, as well as volume, “I’m  _ so _ wanting to go.. Ever since I was a  _ kid _ -! I was  _ so _ .. Wanting..” he slowed as he took in Gibb’s unimpressed face and Kate’s dubious raised eyebrow, before botching it back down to a respectable level of volume. “Sorry.. I just always..”

“Wanted to be there,” Gibbs finished curtly.

“Yeah,” Tony cleared his throat again, looking down at his shoes before steeling himself back up again. They had a case. His awe could wait.

“Sometime the night before last, Seaman McDonald went overboard,” Gibbs picked the case back up quickly, sighing under his breath.

“Anyone see or hear anything?” Kate asked, both curious and dubious. Likely, with how these cases usually went, not at all.

“No,” Gibbs concluded her hypothesis with ease, before dashing any further hopes that they might have some sort of willing witness, “Didn’t know he was missing until he failed to report for duty.”

“Anything in the medical?” Kate continued.

“We’ll get all that when we get onboard,” Gibbs gave her a curt nod, and Chrys let the smile stay on her face as she rocked back on her heels. “Uh.. Boss..? Am I..?”

“You’re coming, Agent Jordan,” Gibbs cut off her wandering murmur without hesitation, and his face stayed rather blank when she practically jumped into the air with a hollar. 

“Yes-!  _ Freedom- _ !”

“But you stay with me,” He finished.

She barely paused with her cheer to look over at him, her eyebrow tipping up in confusion, “And?”

“And what?” he asked slowly. What did she mean by ‘and’?

Kate and Tony merely flicked their eyes back and forth between the two, seeing the astounded look on the redhead’s face when she raised the other eyebrow up, too, looking completely surprised. “That’s it?”

“Did you expect something else?” Gibbs gruffed, reaching out to pick up his coffee with a slight roll of his eyes while Chrys frowned to herself and glanced toward her desk, “Well, no.. I just.. Figured there would be a catch.. Kind of waiting for it..”

“I just said you would stay by me,” Gibbs repeated slowly, a little annoyed that he had to, but when she took her hands and gestured in a ‘go-on’ motion, his confusion mixed into the annoyance to settle for exasperation, “What is it?”

“I’m just..” she frowned, her expression turning a bit concerned, “I don’t understand how that’s a catch..”

“Quit while you’re ahead, newbie,” Tony whispered, swooping in to grasp her shoulders before shooting his unimpressed boss a smile. “So, boss, anything else unusual?”

* * *

“Ducky~!” Chrys cheered, waving excitedly as she practically flew into the autopsy room, Kate, Tony and Gibbs a way behind still stepping out of the elevator, “Look-! Look-! No more cast-!”

“That’s wonderful Miss Jordan,” Ducky smiled, greeting the enthusiastic woman with a nod, “And it’s incredible that you are so quickly on your feet. How exactly is it do you think that you seem to heal so quickly in the first place?”

“Grandpa used to say I had monster genes in me,” Chrys shrugged, “Like that time I broke my arm as a ten year old and wound up having my teenage neighbor cut it off two weeks later with a buzz saw because it was itchy. Perfectly fine after that, minus bruising.”

“Would you care to allow me to take some samples of-”

“Ducky,” Gibbs cut into the conversation as they entered the doors, making both the older man and the young woman perk up at the sudden entrance of the three. “What’ve you got?”

“Good morning to you, too, Jethro,” he sighed, shaking his head before he gestured to the now smirking man to follow him to the table toward the center of the room, where a man in a white uniform lied out with a gleaming golden sheathed sword and bound in chains, his lips a bit blue and his clothes nearly plastered to his body. “This is  _ exactly _ how he was found.”

“Dress Whites,” Tony pointed out, frowning, “Why?”

“No one knows,” Gibbs answered in place of Ducky, his tone a bit curt as he looked over the young man’s remains. “There were no formal events scheduled.”

“He could have made one,” Chrys pointed out calmly, getting a curious look from the team and elaborating, “Some women put on their finest dresses before they commit suicide.”

“You’re thinking suicide?” Tony frowned, looking a bit uncomfortable with the input, “Is that a.. Future thing you saw, or..?”

“He did not  _ intentionally _ kill himself.. I think..” Chrys’s frown deepened, and she awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, feeling a nudge at her foot and glancing down at the dog at her ankles, looking at her with love. She almost wanted to pick him up and bury her face in his fur, but now was neither the time nor place.

“You think?” Gibbs frowned.

“Time and place, boss,” Chrys winced, “This is neither. Plus.. it  _ has _ been a while since I’ve seen this particular set of scenes..”

“So.. you  _ don’t  _ just get them the day of,” Tony confirmed, looking a little more understanding, but still confused, “How do those even work, do you.. Pass out and suddenly see it, or..?”

“Deja vu,” Chrys offered, “Whenever I sleep, I see scenes like this. I don’t really dream, it’s more of.. I see things happen before and after they do.. Like.. watching a forty minute movie.. Before it shifts to a different movie at a different time, whether it’s in order or not isn’t really up to me.. And I don’t get dates unless it’s being generous and I have to be completely and utterly deep in the REM cycle, but-”

“Jordan,” Gibbs cut her off.

“Sorry boss,” Chrys frowned, “Wait, sorry- crap-! I know-! Sorry, I- gah-! I should  _ really  _ stop apologizing-! I’m just gonna-” she put both hands quickly over her mouth, ducking her head a bit as her ears burned. Kate chuckled a little, and Tony had to smile as she shot them a small, embarrassed glare. 

“What about the sword?” Kate asked after a moment, it was kind of hard to joke around with a dead body on the table.

“Officer’s cerimonial,” Gibbs explained.

“Our man’s enlisted,” Tony pointed out.

“Yeah,” Gibbs nodded quietly, before flicking his eyes to the slightly taller man, “Doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

“Well, here’s something else for the mystery tour,” Ducky interlude calmly, moving his gloved hands down to unsheath the handle from it’s confines, showing off the actual blade with a shrill swipe of metal before holding it out for the group’s inspection. “This so-called “Ceremonial sword”.. Is sharp enough to slit someone’s throat.. Do you know why they drive on the left hand side of the road in England? Hmm?” he asked softly, waiting for a response while Kate looked toward Gibbs with a searching smile. Should she humor the doctor or abort out of lack of time.

“Dates back to medieval times,” Ducky explained calmly when she had looked back at him, her smile still there while Chrys inched just a bit closer to her friend and examined the metal while Ducky narrated. “Most people were- and still are- right handed. It allowed them to  _ slash _ at one another.. When passing..” he stepped back quickly, and began swinging the sword around in controlled arcs. Chrys couldn’t help but grin as he did so. “on horseback. Ha-!” He stopped the sword with a final swish, and glanced at it with a bit of nostalgia before returning to his place at the table, “ _ Hi-yah _ ..  _ Why _ you might ask, doesn’t this hold true.. For the rest of Europe?”

“Why the chain on the waist?” Kate asked instead.

“Ah,  _ these _ ,” Ducky nodded, setting the sword on the table beside the body before bending down beneath it, grasping it something heavy before hauling it up with a grunt, “..these were  _ attached  _ to it, each twenty five pounds..”

Chrys put on a pair of gloves from Ducky’s box before she returned to the table to listen to Ducky’s rambling, soothing voice. “Now, whether he put them on himself, or someone did it for him.. That much weight sent him down fast..” When no one had a comment, and Chrys was back beside the body, reaching out to touch the rim of the weights on the table, “ _ Well, _ if you’ll excuse me-” she picked the top one up quickly, her face going rather blank as she grasped the twenty-five pound plate between five fingers, and gently shook it up and down.  _ What the- what the hell-?!  _ “-I’ll get our poor seaman out of his wet clothes.”

“Uhh.. Ducky..?” Chrys whispered.

“You’re not going to say ‘and into a dry martini’ are you?” Tony asked, smiling faintly.

“Ducky..” Chrys whispered again, her volume raising just a hair as she pinched the edge of the plate between two fingers, letting it hang a bit as she moved it back and forth. 

“No,” Ducky grinned, letting out a breathy chuckle, “No, we’ll save that for later..” He looked down into the poor, young man’s face, his tone a bit subdued. “For me, I’m afraid.”

She quickly set the plate down with a clang, fisting her hands at her side abruptly when she got the group's immediate attention. Biting back a curse, she offered an unsure smile, “Uhmm.. Hi..?”

“Easy there, Jordan,” Tony frowned, “That’s a bit heavy. If you’re not careful you could drop that on your foot.”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, non comitably as she quickly bent down and scooped her dog up into her arms, peeling off the gloves and tossing them one-handed into the waste bin before practically burying her face into her companion’s dark blue fur.

Ren nudged her cheek with his nose, and she nuzzled his neck before she looked back up at the group. They were still staring, so she offered them an awkward laugh, causing them to go back to their business.

_ Okay.. so twenty five pounds feels like picking up a plastic packing peanut.. I think that may be an issue to deal with  _ another  _ day.. _

_ Let’s just pretend I wasn’t curious.. _


	8. Chapter 8

“Seaman was local,” Gibbs held the papers out over his shoulder as he lead his team out of autopsy, his steps quick and light as they hurried to keep pace with him. “Address is in the file. You don’t have to do the dirty deed,” he informed them as he pressed the elevator button, glancing over to see DiNozzo already looking quickly through the file, “CACO already notified next of kin.”

“Why me, boss?” Tony sounded a little put-out. “Wouldn’t a woman be more sympathetic?”

“That’s why Kate is going with you,” Gibbs clarified briskly, just as the doors opened and he stepped inside. Kate followed quickly, and Chrys after her before Tony slipped in, too.

“I’m sure Tony can handle it alone,” Kate assured the room rhetorically.

“When did an order turn into a debate?” Gibbs asked in a similar, musing tone of voice.

“It’s been a while, boss,” Chrys sighed, sympathetically patting his arm twice. “It seems I’ll need to inform you of society’s advancements, not only technology, but the self empowerment movement of the seventies and eighties generations.”

“Huh,” Gibbs scoffed.

As a thought struck her, and the elevator continued upwards, Chrys tapped on the tallest man's bicep. “Hey Tony, are you saying all men are inconsiderate assholes?” Chrys frowned, looking up toward the Italian with a dubious sort of expression, “I know a lot of great guys who would rather cut off their hand than make someone upset with news like that.” Tony looked immediately regretful of his choice of wording, but didn’t have time to change it before Kate was speaking up.

“Can I meet one?” Kate grinned, flashing Tony a pointed look before giving another smile to the younger woman, “Maybe we could get them to write out some tips for DiNozzo.”

“Charlie would love to, I’m sure,” Chrys grinned, her eyes almost sly, “He gets a kick out of berating the ‘inconsiderate, spineless, disrespectful lot of cry babies’ the large majority of today’s men have become.”

“And how old is he?” Tony sounded a little concerned.

“Sixty one,” Chrys grinned, “His golden years, he likes to assure me. He’s a retired marine Sergeant, I’m not sure of the exact rank, but he spends his time on base talking to recruit hopefuls and counselling teenagers at a public school in Atlanta. I’m the only reason he knows how to video conference.”

“I’d love to meet him,” Kate smiled.

“I’m sure you will,” Chrys grinned, “He promised to spend Christmas up here with me this year.”

“Looking forward to it,” Kate grinned back.

* * *

Chrys nearly bounced along in her strides along the ship as she dragged her rolling black suitcase behind her. There was a smaller case strapped to the long extendable handle, and Ren was in a sort of newborn-carrying sling around the front of her waist. For the first time she was dressed in the NCIS gear, the slacks, jacket, and Gibbs had screwed the hat down over her head after commandeering her decorative Army cap just before the helicopter took off.

She almost got a cheek-ache from how hard she was smiling.

She was definitely going to sew a smaller one for Ren, but she would make due with the little NCIS dog vest she’d gotten from resources. It was the smallest they had, but it still needed a few adjustments.

Not too hard, considering she packed enough for a long while in her cases.

“The Commander's on a call with land fleet, sir, he’ll catch up with you as soon as he can-!” The guide leading them kept the most back-straight brown-nosed aura a human could ever produce as he walked alongside Gibbs on the walkway.

“We appreciate it Master Chief,” Gibbs assured him loudly. “Did you have any contact with seaman MacDonald?”

“Can’t say I did, sir,” the man denied regretfully. “Kept pretty much to himself.”

“Seems to be the general consensus,” Gibbs stated offhandedly. He wasn’t buying it. This kid had to have talked to _someone_ at _some point_. “Or the party line.”

They swung into one of the doors to get inside, and the Master Chief directed them through several more hallways before coming to a different door. “We’ve got you set up in the XO’s quarters.. It’s small, but it’s private and secure.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Gibbs dismissed his comment.

The Master Chief stopped at a different door, and knocked twice, then three times, in turn. A voice called ‘Enter’ just before he opened the door, allowing Gibb’s inside while he stepped in, taking off his hat. “Lieutenant Commander Robbins, Agent Gibbs.”

“Appreciate you giving up your, uh-” Gibbs started to thank him, but the rather irritated man merely left in a huff without a glance back, cutting him off with a tart, “Not a problem.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Robbins,” Chrys smiled when he’d had to stop, seeing her directly in front of him on his path to go further in the ship. “I’m sorry you had to give up your private space like this. We’ll be out of your hair as soon as we can.” She offered him a sweeter smile, and he actually paused, blinking twice before he shook his head, and sighed, “No problem, Ma’am.”

“I am not old enough to be a ma’am, call me Chrys,” she protested, waving at him when he passed and catching the tail end of a confused, but amused expression on his face as he walked away, looking like he was fighting off a smile. Kate raised an eyebrow at her, and she wiggled her eyebrows back before ushering the girl inside. Kate chuckled as they listened to Gibbs and the Master Chief continued to talk.

“NCIS is always welcome aboard, sir, you can expect excellent cooperation.”

“I appreciate that, Master Chief.”

“If you need anything..”

“I won’t hesitate,” Gibbs assured him.

The man left with a nod, closing the door behind him while Chrys finally let her chuckle be heard. Kate only shook her head, while Tony looked confused, flicking his eyes between the girls and the door before resigning himself to ask _after_ Gibbs had debriefed them.

He was less likely to get scolded for being off topic that way.

“Now why didn’t that sound sincere?” Kate asked sarcastically, taking off her cap as Gibbs did, though Chrys decided to leave her’s on, moving to let Ren poke his head out of the sling, deciding that a hook on the back of the door was more than suitable for the sling to be used as a resting place for the robotic pup.

“Ah, you’ll get used to it,” Gibbs waved off her words with ease, moving to put his bag into a larger compartment in an effort to make room, “They either stonewall or kiss ass. To them, we’re the Internal Affairs of the Navy.”

“So, basically, they hate us,” Kate simplified his explanation.

“No,” Tony rolled his eyes, “Pretty much.”

“Well,” Kate conceded, a smile curling at the corner of her lips as she looked toward Chrys, who was now hanging her jacket over the sling on the hook and running her fingers through her long, flaming hair, the other idly rubbing the head of her navy blue dog. “Maybe not all, in Lieutenant Commander Robbins’s case..”

“What’d I miss?” Tony demanded briskly, his shoulders hitching up as he darted his eyes between the girls, “He just left in a huff and a puff like a big bad wolf..”

“Girl stuff, Tony,” Kate dismissed him when Chrys looked over to her in surprise, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Wait, now you’ve _gotta_ tell me,” Tony frowned, looking legitimately upset that he was being left out of the loop. “Come on, ladies-! A little empathy-!”

“Set up the laptop and establish a feed from NCIS,” Gibbs raised his voice a bit, rolling his eyes at the agent’s bickering before directing his attention to the silent redhead.

“Gotcha, boss,” she smiled, moving to get the company-issued laptop Tony had brought, having left her sleek one at home in favor of the newest model one she’d gotten from her Google connections. She opened it up and started to click around, before typing in what she needed to, making sure to use one of her flash drives on her necklace to secure and strengthen the connection and resolution of the picture.

“We’re not all sleeping here, are we..? ..Together?”

Kate’s question put the room in sudden silence, and Chrys fingers paused over the enter key before she pointedly pressed down, breaking the heavy, unneeded tension.

“I’ll take the couch,” Gibbs stated calmly.

“Air mattress,” Chrys shrugged, giving the duo still standing a look of confusion when they pointedly glanced at her two smaller-side bags before looking back at her. “What? My grandmother taught me how to pack a month’s worth of clothes into a grocery sack and a drawstring, I think I can pack a measly two weeks at sea into a suitcase.”

* * *

“This way,” Gibbs stated briskly, the redhead trailing behind him walking along obediently without so much as a word of protest as she scribbled into a small flipbook with a Bic pen. Her hair was pulled back into a long, flowing ponytail that similarly resembled red painted fire, sticking out of the back of her NCIS cap as it clashed with her clothes of the day. Rather than something reasonable like a suit, or even comfortable slacks and sweaters, she had taken the opportunity of the lack of dress code in the agency to wear what she pleased. Today it was a pair of bright, sky blue shorts, that went just above the knee, with black stockings underneath it, her leg in the brace only slightly discernable against the black, the fabric fading to a soft gradient blue just toward the top. Her shirt was a short sleeved black button up, but her decorative tie was electric blue, with a soft black pattern on it that resemble pixels and diamonds, contrasting with the similar pattern on the shirt to have a blue detail from the bottom right corner to her ribcage before fading into the black.

On her right arm was a black fishnet sleeve that went to her knuckles, her left wrist holding her thick black watch with the strange buttons she had called a Coil, while on her feet were a pair of calf-high bright blue boots with black belt straps crossing around the ankles.

All in all, she looked more like she belonged in one of those new-age music videos than investigating a navy murder.

“Do you enjoy wearing such eye-catching things to work?” Gibbs asked idly as they went down a level, toward the lowermost status bunk cells.

“Yeah,” she answered promptly, without hesitance and completely sure as she continued to scribble, the dog in her arm was silent and still. Looking more like a realistic toy than anything else. “It makes me feel comfortable to wear what I like. Gives me confidence, too.”

“So I see,” he hummed.

Once they reached MacDonald’s quarters, Gibbs greeted the poker playing seamen at the door, striding in without pause and putting gloves on along the way.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Gibbs nodded.

“Good afternoon, sir,” One of the seamen, with a towel over his shoulder drying his hands nodded toward the agent.

“Okay,” Gibbs murmured, adjusting his gloves properly as he spoke, “Let’s dispense with the small talk. Which one is his bunk, Petty Officer.. Carnahan?” he read off the name on the young man’s shirt. Said man was eyeing the brightly dressed woman just behind the older man, looking completely relaxed as she pressed the end of her pen to her lips, flicking her eyes around the room they were in.

“Below mine, sir,” Carnahan nodded quickly, catching the order, and turning on his heel to lead the duo into the more tightly compact hallway to the first set of bunks.

“Thank you, Petty Officer,” Gibbs followed him promptly, but Chrys lagged behind just a moment to offer the room a smile and a wave before quickly following her boss.

The stares on her back were a bit more confidence-boosting than she would ever really admit.

“You knew MacDonald?” Gibbs questioned calmly, the sound of Agent Jordan’s pen quietly scratching at paper the only other sound beside harried footsteps and the vague noises of the boat.

“Not well,” Petty Officer Carnahan denied calmly, “He pretty much-”

“Kept to himself,” Gibb’s completed his sentence in sync, walking past him just as they entered the room, leaving the Petty Officer standing in the door while he immediately set to turning on the top, then bottom lights of the bunks, Chrys standing back to give him room while he began his other questions.

“He, uh..” Gibb’s tried, flicking on the second switch before beginning to tear the bed apart, “-like to listen to music..? He like to _read_..?”

“I really didn’t notice, sir,” Petty Officer Carnahan kept his back straight and his eyes ahead as he stood at the hall entrance. His eyes briefly flickered down to Chrys, while she idly tapped her foot as she scribbled, the navy blue dog eyeing him in a silence that was a few levels past what could be labeled disturbing.

“ _Your_ bunk, is right above his,” Gibbs repeated, his voice slipping into something between disbelief, annoyance, and absolute doneness with how often he’d experienced such a similar scenario, “but you didn’t notice?”

“I’m a private kind of person,” Petty Officer Carnahan defended himself calmly.

“Well,” Gibbs strained a bit on the word as he completely upheld the mattress, pulling it from its frame as he continued to open and pull apart everything he could get his hands on, “If you had to take a wild guess, Carnahan..” Chrys stepped back a half step as the mattress went flying onto the floor, completely missing her by its trajectory as she kept her eyes on the paper, writing every word for word as Gibbs continued, “What do you _think_ MacDonald liked to do?”

“Spend his life at work?” the Petty Officer answered after a moment.

Gibbs shook his head, and sighed through his nose. The boy was distracted. “Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir,” Carnahan nodded, turning on his heel before moving to go back to the small common room.

“You get anything from him?” Gibbs asked calmly, rifling through every inch of the sheets, lest he miss something vital.

“Well, he wasn’t lying,” Chrys nodded, capping her pen and settling it behind her ear as she tucked the little flipbook into the pocket over her left breast. She set Ren down at her feet, and folded her arms across her chest while Gibbs continued to work. He’d already informed her that she would in no way be bending over or lifting anything heavier than a lunch tray on this trip. It had been enough of a silent fight to get to bring her own suitcase onto the loading dock.

“We’ll have to look into his medical records for any sort of social anxiety to confirm anything concrete, but I’m pretty sure he was more of a videogames type than a poker type..”

“Videogames?” Gibbs repeated, almost dubious as he paused his work to give her a look.

“Hey,” she frowned, “He’s part of the master tech group on the ship, so he spends, what, eighty percent of his time on a government issued computer? Tell me you don’t think a young, barely trained sailor wouldn’t goof off with government property if given the opportunity to do so.”

“I see your point,” he murmured, digging a bit further before he reached for the pillow, nearly tearing the damn thing open to possibly leave behind a hurricane of feathers, had he not found a well-worn book lodged inside the case, folding it over in his hands as he looked over the title, and description.

“Huh,” Chrys murmured, “Deja vu, indeed.”


	9. Chapter 9

“So here’s what we got,” Tony announced, a bit loudly, to be heard over the wind as they walked the port deck as a team for recon. “A dead kid wearing Dress Whites for no reason, with a sword he shouldn’t have, which is not supposed to be sharp, at the bottom of the ocean with weights on.”

“He was a brilliant but troubled computer tech,” Kate offered next, “Who lived at work and had a mysterious friend.”

“Okay,” Gibbs nodded, stopping them where they were with a huff, “so given the circumstances, probably not an accidental death. So.. suicide or murder?”

“Could be both,” Chrys offered, sighing, “Could also be neither. The grey area that a possible mental condition creates puts this case into perspective enough to be a certain challenge, should we find someone to convict.”

“His C.O. suggested he could have killed himself,” Tony stated.

“The corpsman he confided in _and_ his mother are adamant he never would have,” Kate offered just as surely.

“Allright,” Gibbs nodded, “Something else to consider,” he pulled out the evidence bag he had tucked into his jacket, displaying the title ‘The Japanese Sword Art of Iaido’ in bold font. “I found this in Seaman MacDonald’s rack. You know that razor-sharp sword he was wearing? He was teaching himself how to use it.”

“A contributing piece to the puzzle, but nothing even close to being groundbreaking,” Chrys sighed, “If I had a sword, decorative or not, you can be sure I’d teach myself how to damn well use it.”

“I can see you with a sword,” Tony nodded after a moment, “Or a bat.”

“I actually prefer tasers,” Chrys smirked, seeing his surprise and moving to lift the hem of her shirt, showing off the dark brick on her hip in it’s designated hollister. “Guns are fine and dandy, but being able to put them down with electricity makes bringing them in for questioning a hell of a lot easier.”

“Do you even _own_ a gun?” Gibbs asked once they had filed back inside, walking through the hallways with nary a word said between them until the silent nagging finally got to Gibbs and he flicked his eyes to the woman trotting lightly behind him, completely at ease with a dog in her arms and a smile on her face. She looked up in surprise at his sudden question, but answered soon enough.

“Nothing registered by the agency,” she shrugged, “I have a shotgun beside my bed and another under my current couch, but I have permits for those and I took the necessary firearm classes to be able to use and purchase them.”

“We’re getting you a gun after this case,” Gibbs informed her pointedly, not expecting a response, and not receiving more than an “Okay, Boss.”

The rest of the walk was silent.

* * *

“Lunchtime, Ren,” Chrys grinned, patting the top of her companion’s head as she glanced toward her Coil, where a small, holographic screen was displaying the ship’s blueprint. On the map, there was a bright red dot, her position, and a small, green dashed line, leading her to the gully for food. Tony and Kate had split up after arguing about which way it was to the food hall, but Gibbs had said he would eat in his room, so she had tasked herself with getting both her, and Gibbs’s lunch for them to enjoy.

She finally got to the gully doors and carefully peeked inside before opening it, immediately assaulted with the smell of food, loud laughter, lots of talking and what could only be the scent of seamen sweat. Scrunching her nose a little, then relaxing, she fixed her cap over her head, and carefully entered the room, flicking her hazel eyes around the filled tables and chairs before spotting a line at the back.

The very, very back.

_Oh boy.._

Two or three eyes on her as she passed at a time was confidence boosting..

An entire room of eyes on her as she trotted up to a food line was more than a little embarrassing.. However, she held her chin up, and pictured what she always did when she was nervous.

CJ’s dance recital in the eighth grade.

_There was nothing in the world more embarrassing._

It was an instant chill pill.

Humming softly to herself in sync with the mental recap, she carefully stepped over outstretched limbs, smiling politely when people pulled them back if they caught her approach, the volume gradually lowering around her as she passed, then picking up when she was further away. She made it to the line without injury, and gently set Ren on the floor so she could get two trays.

She slid the trays along the rack, accepting the portions the servers held out with a smile, getting the most filling things she could for Gibbs, as well as two cups of coffee, and a soda for herself. By the time it came to the end of the line, there were cookies.

_Cookies-!_

Her smile was nearly blinding as she accepted two chocolate chips, one for each tray, and smiled as she felt a nudge to her ankle. Feeling a tap to her shoulder, however, she nearly jumped clean out of her skin, and whirled around just in time to catch Lieutenant Commander Robbins holding his hands up in surrender. “Sorry- ma’am, you just-”

“Lieutenant Commander Robbins you just scared the hell out of me,” Chrys sighed, nearly falling back against the tray’s guard rail before she flicked her eyes back up to the man standing straight and tall. She winced, biting her lip as she felt her heart calm, “Sorry, I hate it when people sneak up on me. Makes me want to glue bells to the toes of their shoes.”

He gave a snort, and she smiled, turning toward her own tray and picking up the cookie before holding it out to the much taller man. “Thank you again for earlier, we really appreciate the opportunity to do right by Seaman MacDonald. I know it’s not much, but you can be sure the first opportunity I get, I’m air-dropping a good few dozen cookies to your next station.”

“You really don’t need to do that,” he chuckled, but accepted the cookie when she didn’t back down, holding it between his fingers, and showing the girl just how big his hands actually were.

_Holy, mama.._

“Well, I should, a-” she jerked her thumb toward the door, before quickly moving to grab the trays, nearly jumping again at the light tap to her shoulder, before she was almost face-to-chest with the poor man who had to relocate his room for a murder investigation. “Let me help,” he smiled. “Back to my old room, right?”

“Uhh,” she murmured, blinking at the fact that he was effortlessly holding up Gibb’s rather well-packed tray, before she nodded, and hummed an ‘Okay’ as loud as she dared. She gripped the tray with her own portions tightly in both of her hands, glancing down to be sure Ren was nearby as they began the process of heading _back_ toward the exit of the room. This time, however, people immediately moved their legs, chairs, and bodies out of the way as Lieutenant Commander Robbins lead the petite fire-haired woman through the high school-auditorium levelled gulley without a single accident.

Just as they got out the door, and managed to turn a corner, however, there was a _new_ noise, a familiar noise, that Chrys had come to label as the ‘sexually-dimwitted duo’

“-just jealous because I got here before you-”

“-wasn’t following you, why would I want to-”

“-shouldn’t have just taken a left back there-”

“-maybe you should go eat out in the-”

“Kate-! Tony-!” Chrys cut in, stopping both adults mid sentence and making their eyes flicker down the walkway, settling first on the Lieutenant, before settling on her. Tony’s eyebrows shot up immediately, a smile spreading across his lips, but Kate took the cake with a sweet, processing smile as she started to grin, too. “ _Hey_ , Chrys,” she greeted, walking over to the girl before glancing further down the hallway, where _Gulley_ was painted right above the door. “...You beat us here.”

“Mhmm,” Chrys nodded, flicking her eyes from the clearly assuming Tony back to Kate before giving her a smile, “Well, I should get the food to Boss before the coffee gets cold.”

“Yeah,” Tony cut in, flicking his eyes from the LC to her, and back again with a knowing, obvious grin. “Don’t wanna keep _boss_ waiting, do ya’ Jordan..?”

“Tony,” Chrys murmured, “I am going to walk away, and if I hear you say anything assuming, or if Kate hears you say anything assuming, I give her permission to hit you in the arm in my stead. Later.” She walked off without another word, practically trotting through the hallways as she counted doors.

Lieutenant Commander Robbins stayed almost directly behind her the entire time, a smile on his lips when she would pause, flick her eyes up in thought, then continue walking. He knew the route by heart, but it was actually kind of cute how she was leading him and the tiny dog around.

“So your name is Chrys Jordan?” he asked curiously as they made their way up the stairs. He wasn’t complaining at all about the sway of bright red hair, or the bright, eye-catching blue of her shorts and boots. It was colorful and covering in a way that it was both cute, and conservative, with hardly any skin showing at all.

“Yep,” she nodded, waiting at the top so both he, and her dog, could join her after a few long moments, “Pick whichever you like best, I guess. I get called both often enough I’m used to answering to either.”

“Alright,” he nodded, “I think I’ll stick to Chrys.”

It was quiet as they walked down another hall, and Chrys hummed softly under her breath as she mentally counted the corners and steps. A few more hallways left..

“So, Chrys,” he started slowly, glancing down at the petite woman as she walked a bit slower, turning her attention to him with a lift of a slim red eyebrow. “Do you.. Like your job?”

“Oh, I love it,” she grinned, nodding along with his question and giving him a similar one in turn, “What about you? How are the seas treating you?”

“Well enough,” he nodded, sure of it, before giving her a slight smile. “You’re surprisingly nice for an NCIS agent.”

“I’m new, so that might be why,” she shrugged, “And this is my first real case.”

“Well,” he started, then stopped, and shook his head. “Nevermind.”

“Wait, what?” she stopped completely, just a few doors down from their room, and looked toward the tall man expectantly. When he didn’t say anything  she narrowed her eyes, “Oh come on, don’t do that-! I hate it when people start to say something and they don’t because they think twice about it. It’s like you’re giving me a really intriguing and awesome joke lineup, but then you never give the punchline to me and I sit there thinking about it for _days_.”

He was actually laughing at this point, breathy chuckles that shook his shoulder and threatened to knock over the still-steaming coffee on the tray.

“I was _going_ to say,” he started slowly, visibly cringing, “and though I realize now how terrible it sounded, ‘I’m glad your first real case was here.’ I mean, it really is awful about MacDonald, but-”

“It’s cool,” Chrys assured him quickly, “Don’t sweat it, I’m glad, too. You’re cool for an LC, Robbins.”

“It’s James,” he offered. “You can call me James.”

“Thank you, James,” she smiled as they stopped outside the door, “For assisting me in bringing lunch back for my superior. I appreciate it. I wasn’t kidding about airdropping cookies, by the way.”

“Then I’ll look forward to it,” he gave her a slight nod, glancing at his shut door before looking back at her as she held up her wrist and did a staccato knock. “Hey,” he asked quickly, just as the person inside called ‘Enter’. She stopped, and turned to look at him, giving him a nod to show she was listening.

“Would you..” he started, stopped, then tired again, letting out a sigh. “Would you like to eat dinner in the gulley with the guys and I?”

“Dinner?” she repeated, blinking a bit before she glanced down at her dog, thought it over, then shrugged, giving him a smile. “Sure thing. Sounds fun. Where should we meet?”

“How about just outside the gulley, five after dinner bell,” he offered.

“Deal,” she grinned, turning to the door again and pushing down the handle before stepping inside, and reaching back with her free hand to accept the tray he held out. “Thanks James. Hope you have a good lunch.”

“You, too, Chrys,” He smiled, waving before he moved to jog back the way they had come.

She stepped inside the room with a sigh, and nearly jumped sky high when she came face to chest with Gibbs, nearly crying in relief when he caught both of the trays that had started to waver and in turn, kept her grounded, too. “Holy shit, Boss-!” she snapped, gasping as she struggled to regain her heartbeat, “Christ, we really need to glue bells onto your guys’ shoes.. Heart attacks are going to become an occupational hazard at this point..”

“You will not come anywhere near my shoes with glue, or bells,” Gibbs stated briskly, taking the tray with the two coffees and moving to sit down at the desk. Chrys sighed at his tart, strung-out disposition, but shrugged it off as ‘Gibbs charm’ and plopped down on the couch to eat. A sandwich, an apple, a slab of pudding, a roll and an orange soda later, Chrys wiped her mouth with the napkin and settled onto the floor, pulling her laptop from the bag beside her and cueing it up with her email opened.

She had a software request from Larry Page.

He was sick of getting lost, wanted to know if she could make a program to include destinations to a satellite map of sorts for anywhere around the world.

_Holy shit, he wanted her to make Google Maps a thing.._

_FUCK YEAH-! PAYCHECK-!_

She immediately hashed out her response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments give me the warm and fuzzies I need to keep writing. :3


	10. Chapter 10

“ _ We found a couple more things on MacDonald’s body _ ,” Abby informed them through the rather well-defined screen of the laptop, moving swiftly around her lab as she talked toward the camera in the corner of the room. “ _ He was wearing this _ -” she held up a small, golden pendant in a evidence bag to the smaller camera at her desk, displaying it to the boat’s laptop, and her own plasma screen, “- _ around his neck. It’s just your average Saint Christopher medal. But, here’s what’s really odd.. He had  _ **_this_ ** _ in his pocket _ ..” she held out an evidence bag with a piece of paper inside, dried-wet, soggy-shaped, with both words and an illustration on the side. “ _ My guess is it’s some sort of “character charter” for a fantasy game _ ..”

“What kind of game?” Tony asked over Gibb’s shoulder. Gibbs was sat directly in front of the computer, with Chrys sitting as close as she could to his side in case she needed to intervene on the feed, while Kate hovered over  _ her _ shoulder, keeping all four of them in the frame for the goth to see.

“ _ It looks like an M.M.O.R.P.G. _ ,” Abby informed them with a bit of a frown. 

“M.M. what?” Tony grimaced, moving to get up and move to hover his head between Chrys and Kate’s though the latter was a little annoyed, she held back as she tried to focus on the evidence.

“ _M.M.O.R.P.G._ ” Abby repeated, a fraction slower as she shot Tony a look of slight disappointment, she thought he would know this. “ _It’s a Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game._ _They’re huge on the internet.”_

“I just stick with RPG, and dual-edged storyline,” Chrys offered the goth with a sympathetic smile, “Too many people being jerks kind of does it in for me, plus it gets kind of repetitive.”

“ _ Totally, _ ” Abby agreed.

“And a “character charter”, would be, what?” Gibbs turned his attention to the girl beside him, frowning in confusion and a bit of impatience. She merely smiled, and reached up a hand to pat his shoulder. “It’s the guideline a character follows. Their age, height, moral code, etcetera. Usually this is done for games with things with storylines, like living out your own personal adventure quest,  _ without _ the threat of death-bringing disease and mortal wounds.”

“You’re kidding me,” he scoffed, disbelieving as Abby nodded along with the explanation.

“ _ No, _ ” the goth spoke up, gaining a bit of momentum with the topic, “ _ They really get into this stuff, like, there can be thousands of players on one site alone _ .”

“Well,” Gibbs sighed, shaking his head as he adjusted himself on the bench, “It’s comforting to know Russell's computer skills were being put to good use on a billion dollar ship.”

“ _ Oh, he’s a computer geek, _ ” Abby nodded, understanding, before flicking her eyes to Chrys, who sat on screen with Ren perched in her lap, fiddling with his paws as if he were waving them, like a baby’s. 

“Yeah,” Tony conformed, pacing a little as he red off of his notes and file copy, “Worked in the Combat Information Center.”

“ _ That is a perfect gig for a power gamer, _ ” Abby smiled, “ _ I mean, he was working on combat, it was just more like the medieval kind.” _

“Are games like this violent?” Gibbs questioned his two computer experts, the one on screen looking toward the redhead, who had let out a high-to-low whistle of unease. “Uh, Boss,” Chrys frowned, wincing a little, “The main purpose of these games are to  _ be _ violent.. The designers make them as a sort of outlet of repressed anger and stress for teens, to young adults, and even a good many actual adults.”

“ _ There’s poisoning, thievery _ ,” Abby added, as a sort of example, “ _ stabbings, decapitations _ ..”

“Rape, adultery,” Chrys continued the list solemnly, ticking off fingers as she went, adding Abby’s to the count, “Torture, graphic language..”

“ _ The occasional garrote, _ ” Abby tacked on the end.

“I’d say that’s violent,” Tony spoke after a moment of quiet in the XO’s quarters. 

“What should we look for on his hard drive?” Gibbs asked the two women calmly. This was far,  _ far _ out of his comfort zone, and he wasn’t exactly happy about being behind in the terminology of this stuff, either.

“ _ If he’s any good, he won’t leave any footprints, _ ” Abby gave the camera a slightly pitying smile.

“Hey-!” Chrys sat up straighter, pressing a hand to her chest as she locked her eyes with the ones on the screen, “Who do you think you’re talking to Sciuto? This is my  _ job _ .”

“ _ Right _ ,” Abby nodded, a smile spreading across her lips as she bobbed her head, “ _ Well, Agent Jordan, it looks like you’ve got yourself a case you can shine on _ .”

“Oh great,” Chrys deflated a little, giving a slight, awkward laugh, “Thanks Abbs, now I’m not feeling the pressure at  _ all _ ..”

“Don’t worry, newbie,” Tony grinned, rubbing his hands across her shoulders until she had straightened up so he could press harder, roll smoother, “We’ve got your back.”

“Where would we get the evidence, if there  _ is _ evidence?” Gibbs asked, rather impatiently as he silently brooded about being basically out of the loop.

“..Cyberspace,” Kate offered, after Chrys had looked toward her with raised eyebrows and an encouraging smile. 

“ _ Theoretically, yeah _ ,” Abby agreed, though it wasn’t wholehearted in it’s conviction.

“Can either of you find it?” Gibbs asked, his eyes on Kate as he gave her an approving nod. She did good.

“ _ Maybe _ ,” Abby offered, “ _ these gaming sites are run by anonymous server clients in every country on the planet.” _

“MacDonald’s file didn’t show any foreign language skills,” Kate offered quickly, “You’re probably looking for something run in English.”

“ _ That’s good _ ,” Abby nodded briskly.

“The machines are state of the art,” Tony’s voice was borderline warning, “Think government excess.”

“ _ Well that will eliminate the weekenders and the lo-fi guys. I mean, I’ll give it a shot, but I’m betting that Red in there will have a better chance at it than me _ .”

“Which is almost never a good thing,” Chrys sighed, glancing toward her Coil before moving to put Ren directly on the table, right next to the laptop, “Ren. Friend Mode.”

“Thank you,” he spoke calmly, Gibbs jumping a bit at the initial shift from silent to speaking animal as it looked toward it’s master with an unmoving mouth, a soft pink tongue just visible between the fur of it’s lips. “What shall you have me do first?”

“Alright,” Chrys grinned, reaching up to run her fingers gently through the fur atop his head, “I want detailed access records of gaming sites in every computer-access available room on this ship. Narrow it down to most used site, then most used username. I’ll extract the password from previous admissions and with any amount of certainty, I should be able to have a copy of his gaming history and hours logged by tomorrow morning.”

The abrupt silence among the other four was broken by Tony’s long, whispered. “Woow..”

“Anything else, Abbs?” Gibbs asked after a moment, breaking the tension with a huff of breath and his usual, Gibbs-charm. Chrys smiled at the thought, but kept quiet.

“ _ Oh, the sword _ ,” the raven perked up, nodding quickly as she was brought back on topic.

“Yeah?” the Gunnery Sergeant raised an eyebrow, “What about it?”

Abby drew the sword from the sheath cleanly, and Chrys couldn’t help but ‘ooh’ over the way she confidently held the blade out in front of her. “ _ The blade has nicks in it. Contact with hard metal _ .”

“Another sword?” Tony offered, frowning.

“ _ It’s possible _ ,” Abby nodded.

“Two sailors, playing with sharp swords,” Gibbs narrated with a huff of breath.

“Once in a while, you might miss,” Kate spoke up, shifting in her seat as an idea formed. “I’m on it.” She was up and out the door in a matter of seconds, and Chrys waved a farewell to her before turning back to her dog, whose eyes were briefly flickering with light as he sat perfectly still. She would do her own digging on her Coil in a bit.

“Yeah,” Gibbs nodded as she left, and when the door shut, turned his eyes back to Abby on the screen, “Abby, have fun with your M.M.R.O.P.G.” Abby grinned as the connection cut, while Tony and Chrys stared at him in awkward silence.

Feeling their gazes, Gibbs slowly turned to look at them. “What?

“M.M. _ O.R _ .P.G.,” Tony corrected calmly.

Chrys merely pressed her lips tightly together, not saying a word.

“Thank you,” Gibbs murmured, blank and rather light as he eyed the younger male.

“You’re welcome,” Tony murmured, not catching the sarcasm. Chrys ducked her head, reaching for her dog and quickly pulling him to her chest as she sunk lower in her seat.

“Can I talk to Ducky now?” Gibbs asked calmly.

“Yeah,” Tony took the cue then, and hurriedly got to his feet backing off just as Chrys clicked the laptop to patch in the autopsy room. Tony gagged as the delicately mutilated carcass of Russell MacDonald came on screen, his lunch rolling around in his stomach as it threatened to make a second appearance. “You might want to warn us about what you’re working on right after lunch, Ducky,” Tony requested, wincing as he watched the aged doctor place a mass of what looked like a heart into the pan to be weighed.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Ducky agreed, a bit of amusement to his voice, “ _ I suppose gazing directly into the exposed digestive system doesn’t aid the actual process _ ..”

“Not after the meal we just had,” Tony stated calmly. Ship food was okay, but it was a bit too filling, lacking the womanly touch of a loving wife or mother.

“ _ Yes, I’m sorry about that, my friend _ ,” Ducky apologized, quickly moving to return to his work again, “ _ But sometimes, gaining valuable insight requires _ ..” he reached over to pick the heart out of the tray, “ _ suffering small indignities.. I recall one case. _ .” he set the heart in a separate container, and gained a familiar, nostalgic look in his expression as he stood above the opened body once more, “ _ a young woman, not much older than yourself.. She ingested a small piece of jewelr _ y-”

“Ducky,” Gibbs cut in calmly, taking his coffee in hand as the doctor paused, and looked back up to the monitor. “ _ Yes? _ ”

“What have we got?” Gibbs asked.

“ _ Oh, uh _ ,” Ducky shook his head a bit, bringing himself back to the present quickly before addressing the main case, “ _ Anoxia… seawater in the stomach.. Foam in the trachea _ .”

“Classic death by drowning,” Tony pointed out calmly.

“ _ A slight hemorrhaging in the inner ear, possibly caused by a rapid shift in pressure.. _ ”

“Because he sank so fast,” Gibbs filled in.

“ _ That’s correct _ ,” Ducky agreed simply. “ _ Now then _ ,” the doctor lifted up the corpse’s wrist, exposing the fingers and hand to the camera’s direct view. “ _ Here we have dirt.. Yes, his fingers  _ **_grabbed_ ** _ whatever he was touching when he succumbed.. There’s a good chance Abby will deduce the dirt came from the ocean floor.” _

“Which means,” Tony frowned.

“ _ Seaman MacDonald was alive when he went into the sea. _ ”

Chrys waited until Ducky had stated, in no uncertain terms, that he had nothing else to share, before she closed the connection, then shut the laptop. Gibbs ran a hand down his face, thinking over the information while Tony excused himself to go to the head, and Chrys paused, sucked it up, and moved to start unpacking.

* * *

Chrys trailed behind Gibbs as he opened the door to speak with the Skipper. She had her pad and pen out again, on her fifth page of notes, while Ren sat in the room, working on compiling the data she needed.

“We’re taking care of you, I trust,” the older man, yet younger than Gibbs spoke pleasantly as they walked through the steering haul. 

“Very nicely, Skipper,” Gibbs agreed smoothly, flicking his eyes to his assistant as she examined the people around her, making small marginal notes before looking back toward the person he had come to question.

“I didn’t know the boy very well,” the man sighed, a bit upset as he shook his head.

“No one did, it seems,” Gibbs stated simply. Whether it was a jab at the illogicality of it all, or the simple fact itself, he didn’t give it away. 

“He was doing some maintenance work on my computer last week,” the Skipper informed the agents next, turning as they reached mid-hull in the window bay and giving the two an appraising stare, a brief look over before he shook his head. “He seemed to be in a bit of a daze. So I had a corpsman administer a drug test. He was clean.”

“Toxicology test we did came up negative,” Gibbs informed him calmly. 

“What do you make of the uniform, with the sword and all?” the Skipper asked, a trace of curiosity betraying his stern voice. Chrys wanted to sigh, but held her face carefully blank. 

“Not sure,” Gibbs admit after a moment, “But we think he was involved in an online fantasy game.”

“Like an M.M.O.R.P.G?” the Skipper asked almost immediately after.

“Yeah,” Gibbs nodded. His left eye twitched a little, and Chrys couldn’t help the snort that left her nose. When Gibbs shot her a glance, she had already busied herself writing in the Skipper’s reactions. Not much to tell. 

“My children play,” the Skipper informed them calmly, turning around again to look over the windows before briefly glancing back, emphasizing with his hands to say, “A lot.”

“We think he might have taken it a step further,” Gibbs informed him calmly, his voice level as he continued to follow the Skipper through his trek of looking over the stationary dials in front of him. “And staged real fights with someone on board.”

“On board,” the Skipper repeated, disbelieving. “How would that be possible?”

“Well, Skipper,” Gibbs stated calmly, “I’m sure you know this ship better than anyone else under your command.”

“Inside and out Agent Gibbs,” he confirmed stiffly.

“So..” Gibbs started slowly, then in a bit of a goading tone, “If you wanted to stage a sword fight, with another shipmate, and not get caught…”

It was a few seconds of quiet, as the Skipper looked over Gibbs’s stone-like face, before he nodded, his own features very grim. “Damage control. In the machine shop.. At night.”

“Thank you for your time, Skipper,” Gibbs nodded, Chrys giving him a polite smile and a wave before she moved to follow her boss out of the cabin. 

* * *

“This is stupid, and the graphics are cringe-worthy at best,” Chrys muttered, glaring at her laptop as her fingers flew across the keys. “If I end up getting dismembered I am taking all of my frustration out on the punk we convict with murder.”

“Yeesh,” Kate whispered, flinching when Chrys’s response was to merely type along the board faster and harder, nearly slamming the tips of her fingers into the buttons. “Yikes, Chrys, calm down.”

“I am  _ so  _ not calm,” Chrys grumbled, “Do you have any idea how annoying it is that I’ve had to put in  _ hacking software _ to disable players from interrupting my game progression. As simple as it would be for me to just  _ include _ my code into the game, I don’t currently have my amazing, ultra-awesome laptop to  _ make that happen _ . Because I was a  _ dumbass _ who thought bringing a super-breakable one-of-a-kind relic relic on a boat would be the end of my career.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Kate offered quietly, “It was probably a good call. These ships are steady most days, but if that laptop is that important, it was a good idea to leave it back at home.”

“Thank you Kate, it kind of does. I’m just glad I got my security system installed before I left,” Chrys sighed, grimacing as she multi-blasted the ork in front of her.  _ Damn flaming arrows _ -! “Mother ape- gah-!”

_ And she was once again dismembered. _

Tag-teaming just wasn’t fair..

Neither was hacking, but come on..

“Where’s Tony?” Chrys threw her head back, sliding her hands down her face in exhaustion. She’d been at this for almost an hour.

“On a helo to Puerto Rico,” Gibbs answered swiftly as he entered the room. He set down the cup of coffee in his hand to one side of the desk, before putting a can of orange soda in front of the girl with her head in her hands. “Any further on cracking that code?”

“Hey boss,” Chrys murmured, glancing down at the soda briefly before opening it with a crack and downing half of the ice-cold, fizzy liquid in one go. 

The caffeine went straight to her eyes, and she sat up straight before she set the can a ways away from the laptop, and gave her superior a shake of the head. “No, unfortunately, the government coding and algorithms that the ship uses, while still congruent to other ships with similar installations, is still vastly scrambled and unlikely to have immediate access to any and all records. Especially if they still rely on pen and paper maps for navigation. Please don’t ask-” she held up a hand when he opened his mouth, and she pinched the bridge of her nose in the other, “Still reporting- I have hits on Weylin, the magical elf, but it’s been cleaned over. It will take at least another four hours after we unscramble the main hard drive to get complete access into his account. That boy was absolutely thorough and if he were alive I would have shook his hand for his skill and offered him a job.”

“A job where?” Gibbs scoffed, a bit peeved she had kept him from speaking up earlier, but appeased by the progress report, “You’re not exactly in a position to be offering jobs at NCIS right now.”

“Not that,” she murmured, rubbing her eyes before settling her hands back on the keyboard and typing at a slowly increasing pace once more. “It’s something else.. I’ll tell you after the case.. I just.. Need.. to do this..”

“Kate and I’ll check out the machine room, you stay here and do your tech stuff,” Gibbs walked past her after finishing his coffee, Kate standing up quickly at his order and nodding as she moved to get her pad and pen. “If you need anything, call us.”

* * *

Chrys plucked idly at the hem of her shorts, biting her lip as she glanced toward the forms of Gibbs and Kate as they went through the last leg of files and injuries.

Ren was still loading, she wouldn’t have much till tomorrow to do, and until they found what-

“Yeah,” Gibb’s voice broke her reverie, and she perked up to watch as Gibbs handed over a file to Kate, just over her head as she clicked around on her laptop. “This one matches the description Tony gave us.”

Kate took the file, and quickly flipped through the pages on the clipboard. “Name’s.. Not on the list of suspicious injuries at sick bay.. How many people are on this boat?”

“This  _ ship _ ,” Gibbs corrected calmly, reaching for another file, glancing at it, then adding it to the ignore pile, “Has 323 enlisted, 32 officers. You’re lucky this isn’t an aircraft carrier.”

“Hmm..” Kate murmured, earning Gibb’s attention as she glanced through the records further.

Chrys glanced over at Ren, for what seemed like the five hundredth time in an hour, and immediately scrambled over to sit in front of him as she saw his monitors flick on, one by one, and hover in front of his pretty black eyes. 

“What?” Gibbs asked the raven, closing the file in his hand and letting it fall into the ignore pile. 

“Petty Officer Ronald Zugar cut his arm on a plate glass window last month,” Kate read off from the list, “Only there were no glass shards in the wound.”

“Matches the description?” Gibbs asked curiously.

“To a T,” Kate nodded, looking up with a bit of a smirk, “Guess where he works.”

“ _ I have a match _ .”

Gibbs jumped at the synthetic voice, and even Kate looked startled as they looked over to see the small dog being held up in the air by his armpits, the redhead holding him smiling as if  miracle had just occurred. “Using the name Miss Todd had vocalized, I directly narrowed down the immediate suspects on the list, and located the computer he has most used, and the connections with internet sources he has most made.  _ Immortals _ , is among the most-used program he and Seaman MacDonald have used, seventy percent of the uses between the two occurring simultaneously.”

“So it’s him?” Gibbs looked between the talking dog, to the red-headed woman, then back at Kate, who looked more than a little perturbed that the dog had taken her vocal cues to narrow a search.

“He is currently using module two-seven-eight in the technological support room,” the dog agreed stoically, “He has been active on the server for twenty one minutes and forty-one seconds. I will input the directions to his current location.” There was a ping, and Chrys set the pup down to check her watch, clicking the button just below the ‘screen’ and bringing up the holographic monitor. Kate made a choked noise at the flat square that hovered above the redheads arm, but Gibbs stayed eerily silent as the boat’s blueprint came up, a dot blinked up in an upper hatch toward the center, and a line zipped from it, to the room with a small, dark blue dot shaped like a dog’s head with a tiny pink tongue. 

“And this is where he is right now?” Gibbs asked slowly, pointing in the direction of the flashing red dot, while the bottom right corner of the monitor displayed a new square, one with moving graphics of a game. “Is that his computer’s monitor?”

“Yep,” Chrys nodded, “He’s playing Immortals as we speak.”

“Well then, let’s go,” Gibbs got to his feet, tossing the rest of the files to the table and moving to grab his jacket while Kate hovered above her chair, staring at the monitor as it moved with the watch as Chrys gestured with her arm. “Kate?”

“Yep?” she whispered hoarsely.

“Don’t tell Tony,” Chrys deadpanned, “He’ll want to play with it.”

“Okay,” she hummed.

“What are you two waiting for?” Gibbs demanded, spurring the women into immediate action to slip on their shoes and search for jackets.


	11. Chapter 11

“Impressive swordsmanship,” Gibbs complimented, spooking the two petty officers hovering over the computer display of an elf taking down an ogre with a lot of digital blood. The officer on his feet, dismissed himself with a murmur and hurried back to his station, while Petty Officer Zugar clicked a single button, sending the screen into the original government screensaver for an inactive computer. “Kill anyone else lately?”

* * *

“The last time I looked there was nothing in the U-C-M-J about _virtual_ homicide, sir,” Petty Officer Zugar spoke plainly as Gibbs walked into the conference room they’d been granted as an interrogation. Gibbs had flicked his wrist at Chrys for her to follow, and she’d been sat pointedly down at the seat across from the young man at the table, her dog in her lap and her Coil screen inactive as she stared in silence at the man with hard eyes. By the way he kept fidgeting under her stare, and flicked his eyes away when they met, she was making him extremely uncomfortable.

Good.

“You’re not under arrest,” Gibbs spoke plainly, sitting across from him with a cool look while the boy only looked confused.

“Then why am I here, sir?”

“Well, for starters,” Gibbs adjusted the chair a bit, making himself comfortable while he reached over to palm the sides of the coffee Chrys had gotten him before the interrogation, still piping hot and just the way he liked it. “There’s a little matter of misappropriation of government property.”’

“Everyone on C-I-C plays online a little,” Zugar defended himself quietly, when he glanced at the girl, who he hadn’t seen blink once, he quickly shot his eyes back to the older male with the military cut.

“Well, here’s a flash,” Gibbs murmured, sounding completely unconcerned as he listed off the quite serious issue, “They don’t give you guys top-notch equipment so you can have a better gaming experience.”

“Well they wouldn’t _have_ top notch equipment if it weren’t for guys like me,” Zugar spoke plainly.

“Guys like you and Seaman MacDonald,” Gibbs corrected, almost goadingly but more than a little patient. “Okay,” he asked, seeing the boy’s immediate instinct to clam up and continuing plainly, much like his earlier, disrespectful tone, but smiling at the end. “what came first, the online chicken or the C-I-C egg?”

The terrible joke got a smile from the kid, and the Petty Officer hesitated, before visibly relaxing. “I didn’t know he was onboard for a long time.”

“Must’ve been quite a shock,” Gibbs nodded.

“Actually,” Zugar sniffed, a bit on guard, but holding it together quite well. “We had a pretty good laugh about it..”

“He’s not laughing now,” Gibbs stated, matter-of-factly. “Is he?”

There was a bit of quiet, where no one said anything, until Chrys felt a buzz on her arm, and glanced down at her wrist. Shooting Gibbs a look, she cleared her throat, and got a glance before moving to stand. “Abby’s calling. I’ll be right back.”

“Hey, tech girl,” Abby greeted through the holoscreen once she had shut the door and nodded to the Officer standing guard outside the conference room. She walked about ten feet away before she brought it up, pulling the wireless earbuds from her pocket before slipping them in to silence the conversation for unwanted peers. “I’ve got news.”

“Did you call Gibbs?” she asked outright.

“First one I did,” Abby nodded, “Kate picked up and said you two were in interrogation. I didn’t know if you would be too busy or not so I gave the info to her, too.”

“Thanks Abbs,” Chrys smiled, “Now that we have a bit of evidence, I’d say the case is picking up a nice speed.”

“Any leads on the current kid Gibb’s grilling?” Abby asked curiously,.

“Oh, yeah,” Chrys grimaced, “Big time. I’m going to do my damndest to get this piece of crap locked up for as long as humanly possible. He’s disgusting. Worst thing is, I don’t think Gibbs realizes that quite yet.”

“He probably does,” Abby frowned, “He just hides stuff like that a lot better.”

“So I’ve seen,” Chrys sighed.

* * *

“Seaman MacDonald saw you as some sort of authority figure,” Gibbs spoke calmly, eyes unmoving from the boy he’d been interrogating for the better part of an hour.

“I outranked him, sir,” Zugar stated stiffly.

“Not what I mean,” Gibbs murmured.

“I _didn’t_ kill him, sir,” Zugar raised his voice slightly, but his eyes were still hard.

“Okay, have you _ever_ killed him?” Gibbs nodded, getting to his feet to pace a little in the open space behind his chair, moving to walk past the officer with an unconcerned expression, “In the _game_?”

“Sure,” Zugar nodded after a moment, a mediocre of relief on his face as he did so, “Kinvaras has beheaded Weylin lots of times.”

Gibbs made a noise akin to a snort of amusement, turning from his pacing to walk back towards the suspect with a faint smile. “You’re better than him.”

“Lots better,” Zugar agreed, shrugging his shoulders as Gibbs walked over to stand just a few feet from the table that the seaman occupied. “Pissed him off.”

“Is that when he decided to fight for real?” Gibbs asked curiously, though his tone was still lowered, and casual.

“I never said we fought for real, sir,” Zugar stated calmly, his eyebrows lifting ever so slightly in controlled alarm when the man merely called out “Tony-!”

The door swung open without pause, and the senior field agent under the gunny’s command strode in with a long, slim object in hand, holding it out for inspection with a hard, yet mocking smile on his lips. “Found this hidden in your rack, amigo,” he smiled, winking a bit toward Chrys who was gently running her fingers through Ren’s fur. “Won’t take long for the crime lab to match up the metals..”

_Automatic recording of absolutely everything was always a fun thing to have._

“Look,” Zugar started, choking a bit on his words before shaking his head, and picking up his pace of voice, insisting and nervous, “It was _his_ idea, take the game to the next level. I thought it was kinda cool at the time-!”

“Until you got cut,” Gibbs stated simply.

“Yes, sir,” Jugar quipped.

Gibbs knelt down until he was eye level with the soldier, his voice lowered, and his eyes stone cold. “Did that frighten you, Zugar..? When you found out MacDonald was playing for _real_?”

The seaman was silent for a few moments, simply staring into Gibb’s expression, his face almost uncaring.

“Kinvaras is never frightened.. And I’ve never quite known what Weylin was thinking.”

“Where were you,” Gibbs asked quietly, “the night MacDonald went overboard?”

Chrys smirked, gently rubbing Ren’s ear and flicking her eyes to Tony, watching his boss with obvious pride.

“I was helping a friend with a computer problem,” Zugar offered, lickning his lips after he spoke to wet them. “Most of the night.”

Chrys had to bite back a snort at the audacity of this man-child. Tony noticed her screwed up nose, and nudged her with a quirky smile. She offered one back just as quickly before flicking her eyes back to the scene.

“Big problem,” Gibbs mused.

“Huge, sir,” Zugar offered stiffly.

* * *

“Petty officer Zugar said he was helping _you_ the night Seaman MacDonald went over,” Gibbs stated calmly, pacing a bit across the carpet as he spoke, sitting down in the chair across from Seaman Carnahan with his go-to scary, stone expression. “Is that true?”

“In a way..” the younger man offered after a minute. He looked so confused.

Chrys sat in one of the chairs at a seperate table, a frown on her face as she poked around the inside of Ren’s back panel.

_Her dumbass forgot to check up on the electromagnetic pulse projector.._

Luckily for her, her new “super brain” was fully capable of understanding all of the tiny wires and panels inside of her fur-covered companion.

“You gonna help me out here, petty officer Carnahan?” Gibbs asked calmly, sounding more than a little exasperated.

“I’ve been downloading a lotta.. _Stuff_ off the internet onto my PC,” he offered after a moment, flicking his eyes to the woman in the corner before returning them to the stern man across the table.

“Porn.”

The petty officer had the decency to look chastised, and thoroughly embarrassed as he nodded. “I was pretty sure my C.O. was suspicious, so I hired Zugar. He cleaned out the hard drive..”

“A considerable amount to clean out,” Gibbs mused.

“I have a lot of free time on my hands, sir,” Carnahan stated simply, his voice catching a bit at the end.

“ _Ha-_!”

Gibbs twitched a little, hearing the muffled snort come from behind him, barely looking over his shoulder to see the team’s newest addition click a panel of blue fur back into place on the dog’s back, her nose scrunched up and her teeth biting sharply at her lip when she noticed his heavy, expectant glare. “Do you have something to add, Agent Jordan?”

“No, boss,” she smiled, tapping two fingers to the forehead of the animal before it restarted with a ping. “It’s just.. Do you know how easy it is to wipe a hard drive clean..?”

“I don’t,” he stated simply.

“ _Well_.. it doesn’t take more than an hour if you’re competent,” Chrys smiled.

* * *

“ _As I thought.. Abby matched the dirt lodged under Seaman MacDonald’s fingernails with the sedimentary composition of the ocean floor._ ” Ducky’s voice filled the room through the laptop, Gibb’s pacing behind Tony, while Kate sat further into the room, tired eyes reading through the last batch of the online journals.

“Any signs the suspect had a dance partner before he went over?” Gibbs asked sarcastically.

“ _There were abrasions on his hands,_ ” Ducky offered.

“No sign of a struggle?” Gibbs deduced.

“ _Hmm- well the only bruising I can see is where the chain was attached_ . _No. I’m afraid the only struggle this poor fellow endured.. Was the one to breathe when he hit the bottom.._ ”

“Okay,” Gibbs nodded, “Thanks.”

“ _I wish I could say it was my pleasure,_ ” Ducky continued, his voice holding an undertone of melancholy, “ _From what I hear.. The afterlife could be a vast improvement for a young man so troubled._ ”

“What did I just walk into..?” Chrys’s murmur spooked Kate, sending the older woman to look at her with a bit of embarrassment before she took her hand off of her holstered gun. “Goodness, Chrys, when did you get here?”

“Just now,” the red head murmured, grimacing as she held up a tray with coffees, which Gibbs immediately took one for himself, as it was closest to him.

Chrys held out a the purple stickered one for Kate and an orange one for Tony, before offering the laptop a wave. “Hiya Ducky-! Can we _not_ talk about the afterlife while I’m in the room..?”

“Are you religious?” Gibbs asked monotonously.

“Nooo,” Chrys drew out, giving him an awkward smile before flicking her eyes to the laptop, “Just.. _New Age.._ ”

“New Age..?” Tony actually sounded curious, “You mean like.. Crystals? Meditation? All that hippy stuff?”

“My mother is a hippy,” Chrys shot him a look then, and he looked ready to take a physical step back, “So is my sister, by definition. Do not accuse me of being a hippy. I am not a hippy. And it’s not _hippy stuff,_ it’s legitimate, scientific speculation on the existence of multiple dimensions, parallel universes and the existence of the time paradox.”

“..What?” Now Kate just sounded confused.

Chrys sighed sharply, before pointing at her watch, “Case?”

“Thank you,” Gibbs nodded, flicking his eyes to the laptop with a slight wave. “Gotta go Duck.” He shut the laptop, and straightened back up. “There are no signs the victim struggled, and our only suspect has an ironclad alibi..”

“Sure looks like a suicide to me,” Tony piped up casually.

“Well it sure as hell is _not_ a suicide,” Chrys piped up then, her eyebrow hitching up, “Do have any idea how easy it is to clean out a hard drive? It takes.. _Maybe_ an hour. _Two_ if you push it. Zugar’s ‘ironclad’ alibi, when we get separate evidence, is going to look like freaking Spearphishing..”

“..What?” Tony muttered.

“For the love of-” Chrys muttered, before scoffing, bringing her voice up to a preppy, insincere pitch, “Easy as pie-! A virus with a nametag-!”

“Oh,” Tony muttered.

“It just couldn’t be that simple,” Kate agreed with Chrys, shuffling the pages in her hands with her exhaustion-drawn face clear for the room to see.

“I’m starting to think you’re letting your personal experience get in the way here,” Gibbs stated calmly, though there was a slight undertone of exasperation.

“No,” Kate defended herself quickly, fixing the stack in her hands a second time as she shook her head as she got to her feet, “I’m not talking about.. His religious morals. Okay- I’ve been reading this diary for hours. I mean- MacDonald gives _no_.. indication of an intent to kill himself.” Kates words had slowly gone from tired and lethargic to stern and confident, turning to look Gibs in the eye when she had finished. “Just the opposite in fact.”

“Go on,” Gibbs encouraged.

“MacDonald seems resolved,” Kate nodded, putting her hands to her hips as she worked through the best way to put this, “to continue his battle with Kinvaras after he leaves the ship. So.. _why_ would a man so intent on his mission, no matter _how_ deranged, off himself and end it?”

“I’d give you a cookie, Kate, but I ran out earlier,” Chrys gave her a grin, walking over to give her a quick side hug.

“What else is in his diary?” Gibbs asked quickly, ignoring the red-head’s blatant clinging to the former SS agent.

“I’m on the last entry right now,” Kate stated calmly, showing him the last page before Chrys had released her and moved to dig in her duffel, allowing the raven to go back to her seat on the futon.

“Get me Petty Officer Zugar’s records, now,” Gibbs stated firmly, Tony sitting up in his seat at the order with a nod, already reaching for the phone.

“I’m on it.. I need Petty Officer Zugar’s records please,” Tony spoke pleasantly into the phone, the faintest smile on his lips, “I’ll hold.”

Chrys pulled the smaller case from the duffel, and plopped herself onto the floor in the corner, pulling Ren into her lap before she pulled off his NCIS harness-jacket, and began the slow, painstaking process of altering it.

“What?” Gibbs asked suddenly.

“Aren’t you the least bit interested to know what I brought you back from Puerto Rico?” Tony asked playfully.

“No,” Gibbs deadpanned.

“Listen to this,” Kate spoke up, getting to her feet quickly with a trace of urgency in her tone. Gibbs was at her side instantly, and Tony was pulled back to the conversation on the phone. “Yeah?” the eldest male encouraged her.

“MacDonald says that after he makes his escape,” Kate spoke quickly, nearly tripping over her words but the alarm in them no less real, “He’ll destroy his enemies by releasing ‘a great plague against the realm as the sun sets beneath the next full moon.”

“Why does that sound poetically deadly?” Chrys asked suddenly, putting down her sewing to give the others a frown, her eyebrows furrowing sharply as her eye twitched, “Wait- wait a minute.. Give me a minute.. Deja Vu..”

“File’s on the way,” Tony piped up, setting the phone down with a click before flicking his attention to the two standing agents.

“Plague,” Gibbs repeated, frowning as he walked around Tony’s seat to get to the other side of the desk, reaching out to grab a file folder and quickly sift through it’s contents. “Plague.. Yeah, here it is..” He held open the file wider as he read aloud, his mind running at the speed of a NASCAR final lap as his agents huddled around him. “MacDonald.. Had applied.. For the NBC program..”

“Nuclear, Biological, and Chemical weapons,” Tony stated when he noticed Kate’s confused glance.

“Passed the physical, flunked the psych,” Gibbs insert.

“So what’s the realm he’s talking about?” Tony sounded confused.

“The ship, most likely,” Chrys piped up, flexing her fingers as she fit the spare vest over Ren’s body, setting the one she hadn’t finished into her bag and tucking the project away again.

“MacDonald was convinced that the crew was aiding his enemy,” Kate agreed, adding detail to the statement with a bobbing nod.

“He’s going to set a bio bomb off on this ship,” Gibbs stated firmly, the irritation and subdued disappointment in his voice not going unnoticed by the newbie, slamming the file to the desk while Kate nervously chewed on her lip. “ _Tell me_ it’s not a full moon tonight.”

“Sorry Boss,” Tony grit out.

“What time does the sun set?” Gibbs demanded instead.

“Twenty-Three-Thirty-Seven Zulu,” Tony insert swiftly.

“About an hour from now,” Kate did the math.

“I can run a scan for the bomb-!” The agents jerked their eyes to the redhead, and she held up her dog with a grim sort of smile.

“How?” Gibbs demanded.

“Electromagnetic pulse and echo-radiation,” Chrys explained quickly, “All I have to do is run him through the length of the ship and he’ll find it no problem. He’d be able to find a pipe bomb if I really put the settings in.”

“Do it,” Gibbs ordered her swiftly, moving to the door.

“But I can also get a confession out of Zugar-!”

Gibbs stopped with his hand on the handle of the door, and turned just enough to shoot her an impatient look. “ _How_?”

“Tell him to get on the computers and see if he can find out anything about MacDonald or a bio-weapon on the gaming site,” Chrys implored quickly, already working through the motions of fixing her jacket and grabbing her wire cutters, as well as a small case that looked like it was for cigarettes, tossing it to Tony, “Keep it in your hands when you talk to him.” Tony was out the door after a quick motion from Gibbs, while the man himself was working his jaw in serious thought.

“Navy ships do not carry biochemical weapons, nor would they have the material to make one. Kate, contact Reynolds at Homeland Security. He’ll know if there's anything unaccounted for..” He watched as Kate reached toward the home, before jerking his chin at the door. “Jordan, let’s go.”

Chrys didn’t need to be told twice.


	12. Chapter 12

“Where’s the captain,” Gibbs asked the first officer they came across as they headed closer to center ship.

“In a staff meeting,” the tall, gangly officer supplied, looking more than a little perturbed as he was brushed past to get to the door at the end of the hall. “Hey-!” he shouted, as Gibbs blatantly pushed open the door without a single falter in his strides, “You can’t go in there-!”

“Sorry,” Chrys winced, offering the offended officer a smile before hurrying after her boss.

“Skipper,” Gibbs spoke up, Chrys just managing to stumble inside as he made his way to the bald man at the front of the room, “I have reason to believe a bomb, possibly containing a bioagent, is set to detonate aboard this ship by sunset.”

“How real do you think that threat is-” the Skipper started, but Gibbs was quick to overlap him, “-Very real.”

“Sound General Quarters,” the Skipper ordered, his name escaped Chrys at the time, she was too busy focussing on her companion’s screen-clouded eyes to really care as the other men pushed themselves up from their seats, standing straight with ‘Yes, sir-!’s. “Deploy the Flying Squad. Start with the ventilation systems, and alert sick bay of the situation and have them stand by.”

“Aye, Aye, sir.”

* * *

An alarm blared above their heads, while seamen scuttled through the halls like rush hour, Kate meeting up with both Gibbs and Chrys as they hurried through the walkways toward where Tony was grilling Zugar.

“Reynold says there’s no known materials missing, but the intel’s soft,” Kate reported swiftly. “They’ll continue to check.”

“Stay on it,” Gibbs ordered her in a low voice, “Every five minutes.”

_Control personified._

“He expressly told me to wait for his call,” Kate looked and sounded confused.

“I expressly don’t give a damn,” Gibbs scoffed, “Ride his ass.”

“Boss, you are nine types of awesome,” Chrys grinned.

“Any luck on _finding_ it, Jordan?” he asked pointedly.

“Search is tightening,” Chrys shrugged, “It’s still a computer, boss. We can’t rush it like you rush Tony.”

Kate actually made a choked sort of noise that resembled a laugh, quickly covering it with a feigned cough when Gibbs shot her a look that read ‘Do-you-have-something-to-add’?

* * *

“You listen to me very closely,” Gibbs was barely into the computer room before he was in the Petty Officer’s face, his voice low and dangerous while Tony subtly stayed close enough with the empty-feeling cigarette package in hand. “There’s a good chance a bio bomb is going off on this ship by sunset. Right now you’re the best shot we got to find that.”

_Chrys may have, sort of, briefed him on what to say if he wanted a confession.._

“You give me answers, or I will make sure you’re the last one in line on the evac.”

 _Holy shit_ \- Chrys had to mentally slap herself at a sudden, _unneeded_ turn in thought, shaking her head quickly as Gibb’s stern voice picked up his frustration. “Did MacDonald, even hint, _in any way,_ of taking out this crew?”

“No sir, nothing,” Zugar stated swiftly.

_A bit too swiftly._

“Go over MacDonald’s Diary again,” Gibbs ordered Kate, “Maybe we missed something.”

Kate was already hurrying to go through the file in her email, Tony setting the empty box down by Zugar’s desk before going to help his raven-haired teammate. Chrys simply continued to stare into her dog’s eyes, her face stern and slightly worried.

“I want to know _every_ detail that happened between you and MacDonald..” Gibbs grit out.

* * *

“We’ve got a little more than twenty minutes Zugar,” Gibbs called out, pacing around the incredibly hot, stifling room, “What is it you’re not telling me?”

The air had long since stopped flowing, and it felt like an overdone sauna inside the metal contraption.

“I need to pee,” Chrys hissed to Kate, the woman shooting her a look before all three agents huddled around her module jumped as Gibbs fisted Zugar’s shirt lapels, nearly slamming him into the module station with rarely seen anger. “Do you want the crew on this ship to die-?!”

“I’ll be right back,” Chrys muttered, patting Kate’s arm before scooping up her dog, intent on finding the nearest restroom.

_Fucking heat-!_

“He was crazy you know-!” Zugar cried out, legitimately frightened by Gibb’s move. “He really thought he was immortal-!”

Chrys didn’t stay long to hear the end as she hurried to find a toilet.

Hell, she’d put up with a damn’s men’s room if it meant she could relieve her aching bladder-

“Bomb has been located.”

“Son of a bitch-!” Chrys snapped, slamming her forehead into the hallway wall with a whine before she grit her teeth, sucked it up, and shot her dog a look of frustration. “Nice timing.”

“My apologies,” his ears drooped.

“Not your fault,” she muttered, more apologetic than petulant, before taking off in a run toward the stairs.

She’d pee later.

* * *

“Nothing yet sir, and it’s almost sunset.”

“Have agent Gibbs report to my sea Cabin, now-”

“Skipper-!”

A woman with hair as red as the paint of a fire truck came stumbling into the room on shaking legs, clearly out of breath and flustered as she shook the soldier tailing her off of her arm.

“Agent,” the Skipper piped up, clearly surprised and concerned with her appearance. “Where is agent Gibbs?”

“Yelling at the killer of MacDonald, sir,” Chrys gasped, forcing herself to steady her breathing so she could speak. “I found.. The bomb-!”

“Where is it-?” he demanded sharply.

“I have a signal-!” she coughed. “But we need to get to your cabin to talk to Gibbs.”

* * *

“My ship is in ruin because of your hunch agent Gibbs,” the Skipper stated firmly, facing the man with an expression of disbelief and irritation. “If it wasn’t for agent Jordan, I would have considered calling it a hoax.”

Chrys stuck herself to the wall of the room, glaring down at her coil while Ren sat on the floor, running through the system functions and the scanning software did it’s job.

“I would have characterized it as more of a deduction, Skipper,” Gibbs stated calmly.

“Whatever the hell it is,” the Skipper sighed sharply, “it sent that red-head running for me to talk to you.”

The door burst open, and both Kate and Tony fumbled to get inside, looking frantic.

“Kate-” Gibbs sounded both confused and expectant, but the Skipper had already started to wonder aloud. “It is some kind of NCIS protocol to..”

“It’s not the boat,” Kate interrupted him.

“It’s a _ship_ ,” Gibbs corrected her, a little exasperated.

“It’s the _Skipper_ ,” Kate cut him off instantly.

“Where are you about this time every day, sir?” Tony demanded the uniformed man quickly.

“I don’t see what that-”

“Please answer the question, sir-!” Tony snapped.

“Here-!” the Skipper stated calmly, “Every day I send-”

“We gotta go,” Kate insisted, already pepping her step as she turned for the door. “Now-!” she snapped, seeing the older men hesitate while Tony was quick on her heels.

“Go- go go-!” Gibbs pushed the Skipper toward the door, nearly completely picking Chrys up from the floor and tucking her under an arm before he was pushing her out the door, much to her immediate protest.

“Wait- wait-! _Boss-_!”

“Not now-! Go-!”

“ _Boss wait-!”_

The explosion didn’t come, and when the others managed to get a far enough distance away, Chrys had to pointedly plant her feet in the ground, and use both pinkies to make a loud, sharp whistle. The little procession jerked to a stop, and Gibbs opened his mouth, likely to chew her out, before she pointed sharply toward the end of the hallway.

The door, having been hauled shut by Gibbs, was still closed, but a small, almost unnoticeable blue paw was batting at the corner, before he hauled it open just enough to squeeze himself, and his new cargo, through.

“Aww look at my little baby on his first bomb deactivation,” Chrys couldn’t help but coo, pulling her phone out of her pocket and quickly snapping several photos.

“What the hell-” the Skipper started, jumping a bit when a male, computerized voice called from where the dog was now trotting up to them, a mess of metal, plastic and wires in his mouth.

“The bomb has been deactivated, and has been scanned for residue. Trace DNA of Seaman Russell MacDonald is available for inspection.”

“You get used to it,” Tony muttered quietly.

“Who's the greatest puppy in the whole wide world,” Chrys squealed, getting to her knees after pulling an evidence bag from her NCIS satchel, helping the little dog drop it in with minimal use of her fingers.

“I am,” the dog perked up a little, his tail wagging slowly.

“I..” Kate murmured, frowning a little as she looked at the evidence bag, “Did you really have to use the bathroom or was that an excuse to run off?”

“Damnit Kate-!” Chrys snapped, her shoulders tensing up, “I was trying not to think about-” she cut herself off with a groan, and threw her head back with a full faced grimace of pain. “Fucking ventilation.. Stupid heat.. Little help..?”

* * *

The team was packing up, and Chrys was putting Tony into a state of shock as she effortlessly and swiftly tucked the air mattress into a tight, compact roll, tucking it into the tiny suitcase alongside her clothes bag before zipping it up.

“You alright?” Gibbs asked Kate casually.

“I just can’t get over how the line between reality and fantasy was so blurred for Seaman MacDonald,” Kate explained simply.

“Well,” Gibbs slipped on his hat as he put together the last of their equipment on the desk, “for him, destroying Zugar’s website was every bit as real and violent as trying to kill the Skipper.”

“I’m so glad my parents pushed me into sports in highschool,” Tony shook his head, quickly putting on his hat.

Chrys immediate, belly-aching laughter had the room pausing, and the three looked toward her in surprise as she wiped honest tears out of her eyes. “Oh Lollipops, Kate.. I think about that fine, scary line every time I open my eyes in the morning..”

“You got something to say, newbie?” Tony asked in mock-sternness, but the playful tone of his voice couldn’t be squashed.

“Nope,” Chrys grinned, shaking her head before she got to her feet, “Not without a quarter bottle of alcohol..”

Both Gibbs and Kate shook their heads a little as they moved to exit the room.

“Aren’t you interested at all in what I brought you back from Puerto Rico?” Tony asked, a bit of exasperated disappointment in his voice.

The two agents at the door paused, Chrys merely getting to her feet with a grin on her lips as they uttered, “Fine” and “Sure” simultaneously.

Tony pulled out a white bag, a white package, and a grey bag, shaking them with a grin before handing them out accordingly.

The white bag went to Kate, the white wrapped package to Gibbs, and the grey bag was handed over to Chrys with a grin. She opened the bag quickly, as she heard the other two doing as well, and perked up at what she saw inside, her smile nearly blinding as she jumped in place.

“Oh Tony-! You got Ren a collar-!”

“What?” the tall brunette uttered, sounding surprised, but she was already stooped down to the floor and attaching the spike-studded black collar around the dog’s neck, moving to kiss his forehead before bringing him to her arms and giving him a beaming smile. “Oh it’s perfect-!”

“There should be a swimsuit in there, too,” Tony sounded a little surprised, and amusingly exasperated by the gift’s intended purpose being replaced.

“Oh there is,” she nodded, dipping in her fingers to pull out black bottoms, and a hat. “A two piece.”

“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Kate scoffed, pulling out a similar ensemble in purple.

“Any chance you’re going to try those on?” Gibbs asked the women rhetorically, getting a grin from Chrys, while Kate merely flicked the bottoms at him. “You first.”

“Trust me,” Gibbs looked over the skimpy material in his hand, sounding relatively serious, though a sliver of amusement still remained, “It’s not gonna fit.”

“Pigs,” Kate scoffed, shaking her head as she moved to exit the room, gesturing for Chrys to follow, “We work with pigs.”

“I dunno, Ren will at least have occasion to wear his,” Chrys grinned, perking up as she saw a familiar face outside of the room passing by, “Hey-! Check it out-! Hey James-!”

She quickly slid past Tony and Gibbs, Kate already stepping out of the way with a knowing smile as they both jogged out toward the LC, said man having stopped at the call a bit further down the hallway and doubled back. Lieutenant Commander Robbins looked surprised by the redhead’s call, but quickly settled for a smile as he met her and her raven haired friend halfway, “Didn’t think I’d catch you leaving.”

“Lucky for us, huh,” Chrys grinned, propping Ren up in her arm so the LC could clearly see the fluffball.

“Who’s this little guy?” he asked curiously, his voice unconsciously lowered a bit as he stopped down to get a closer look at blue fur.. And a spiked collar.

“My dog, Ren,” Chrys smiled, “A fellow, beloved member of the team.” Pausing, she pointed to Kate, “And _this_ is my good friend Caitlin Todd.”

“Hi,” Kate smiled, giving the man a nod, which he returned politely.

“Don’t think I forgot about the airdrop,” Chrys warned him quickly, glancing back to see Gibbs with an impatient tap of his foot. “It should be here in about a week, give or take. Do you prefer chocolate chip or snickerdoodles?”

“Chocolate chip,” he smiled then, accepting her open arm for a quick side hug. “Be sure to get back safe.”

“Will do, LC, happy travels,” she nodded, waving a little before taking Kate’s hand, leading them back quickly toward the two males of the team.

Tony looked downright spooked by the display, but Gibbs only rolled his eyes, and motioned for them to go down the hallway toward the exit.

“Let’s move it, I don’t want to miss our ride.”

“Like they would dare leave without you,” Chrys laughed.

* * *

 

Grey tie-shut sweatpants, a pair of boxers, a sports bra and a hoodie with the words ‘Tech-Savvy’ in blocky computer, then cursive over her breasts was the only sleepwear she’d managed to find the energy to put on that night.

Chrys drummed her fingers along the laminate of her desk, hazel eyes glazed with lack of focus and a ruffle to her normally neatly kept hair. Her nails clicked rhythmically to the surface, stopping all at once when she heard a chirping sound come from her laptop.

_Front door motion sensors._

She quickly pulled up the video feed just as a chime echoed through her house. Pressing her lips together, she waited for the screen to load, then marginally relaxed, getting to her feet and moving to slip on her light grey robe.

Bare feet padded down the hallway softly, and she stopped just long enough in front of the door to undo both deadbolts and unchain the lock before swinging it open, revealing a man with a familiar glass bottle and an even more familiar expression of expectant waiting.

“Boss,” Chrys murmured, her shoulder propped up against the door jam as she looked from the new bottle of what looked like bourbon, to her Boss’s casual clothes and back to his face, where his expectant look had been amplified by the slow rising of his right eyebrow. “What-uh.. What’s with the docket change..?”

“Figured it would be a good time for that talk,” he shut down her prodding with little more than a shift in his stance. Relaxing if only a shred, but making his point very clear. He didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.

“Well, okay..” she murmured, more for her own sense of control over the situation than she knew she really had, moving out of the way of her door and padding out toward the kitchen.

She should have a few shot glasses from that eight month travelling stint she pulled after she’d settled into her ‘Twilight Zone’ situation.

Gibbs took his time entering the home, taking in the fresh lavender paint on the walls, the heavy white drapes tied back with decorative rope, loose now as they covered the windows. The floor was all wood, dark cherry, tinted darker with the light only coming from a few select lamps scattered around the room with shapely white shades and royal purple bases.

The couch was rather large, several pieces extended out with what looked like built in recliners and cup holder sections between several of the sectionals. Mounted on one wall was a television larger than even the monitor in the office, a decorative, but visibly functioning fireplace and mantle beneath it, several black glass coffee tables scattered around the room sporadically.

“The boxes I’ve yet to even _touch_ are all piled in the dining room,” the voice of his newest addition came from his back left, and he barely offered her a glance before catching the baking sheet in her hands, on it sat two shot glasses in total, along with a bowl of what looked like M &Ms, and another with a trail mix type of nut and pretzel concoction. “Figured I’d condense it all into one set-off space so I could tackle it as I found the time.”

“Did I interrupt?” he asked casually, more so rhetorically, following her as they bypassed the living room entirely, passing the open archway of what looked like a storage unit with drape-covered windows which he figured was the mentioned dining room, and another few doors before coming to one closer to the back of the house. The room was fairly bare, save for the desk in the corner with a lit, pull cord lamp, three side-by-side computer monitors, two dark leather wingback chairs in front of a rustic, rather old looking fireplace, and a lump, covered with a sheet, pushed to one side of the desk. On the floor in front of the fireplace was a quilt, a pile of suitcases piled into one corner, and a lump of dark blue fur perched happily in front of what he could see was a decent sized fire.

“Ren, Gibbs is here,” she called companionably, the dog perking up almost instantly to look toward the door before giving the man a nod, then returning to his previous position, relaxed with his tail curled around him and his head tucked between his paws.

“Take a seat,” she shrugged her shoulder toward one of the chairs, hesitating when he’d taken another look around the room, clearly catching sight of the sheet over one half of her desk, hiding a large, mechanical lump.

To be fair, it _would_ probably give him nightmares, so she completely ignored the curiosity in his eyes until he had taken a seat in the rightmost chair in front of the fire, the seats rather close together, but facing one another, for the nights where Chrys would prop a leg up to relieve it of the phantom aches of bullets and bruises. She set the tray on the foldable dinner stand she’d brought in earlier for her microwaved dinner, snagging her lip in between her teeth before sitting down herself.

Gibbs wasted no time in uncapping the alcohol, taking a glance at the Washington DC and Michigan themed glances with a brief, wry trickle of amusement before pouring out two shots, and setting the bottle on the tray, taking a pretzel in between two fingers and catching the Washington glass with the rest. “I recall you saying something along the lines of needing a drink for this conversation..”

“A drink too many,” she corrected quietly, her toes wiggling into the quilt at her feet as she squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to be having this conversation, not now, not a week from now, _never_ . But.. She also knew that he needed to know. He wasn’t going to be able to trust her with the bare minimum, as wonderful as that would have been, this was _Gibbs_ she was talking about.

She had better chances hoping to win the Powerball Lottery...

“Well,” he spoke, his voice rather casual as he brought the glass to his lips, but didn’t quite sip, “What would you consider too many..?”

“Haven’t really figured that out yet,” she scoffed, shaking her head before she reached out for the Michigan glass and downing it with a single, sharp movement of the glass. She set it down on the tray with a soft clack, and grabbed about four little candies, popping them into her mouth and beginning to suck on them.

Gibbs downed his glass, then refilled the both of their glasses, nodding towards her a bit before crunching onto a pretzel stick in the silence.

Chrys simply stared at her second glass, watching the amber liquid with hazy eyes and a faint twist of exasperated acquisition.

Now, the question of the evening..

_Where was she supposed to start..?_

“How about the beginning?” Gibbs offered, the red haired woman catching her tongue between her teeth, and when she was certain, after a moment of doubt, that she hadn’t spoken, sent the older male a look of silent accusation.

“You looked like you didn’t know where to start,” he stated simply, not really asking anything, but the information there. He could very easily read her expressions, and he was an incredible profiler..

Should I start with the day of my birth or the night I prevented the AirForceOne jacking?”

“How about we start with your family,” he answered after a single, silent second. “There are no records of emergency contact in your files except for a man named Charlie Emmerson in Atlanta, Georgia. And he’s put down _only_ to be called for notification of your death.”

“Well _yeah_ , the man practically _made_ me give him the privilege,” Chrys frowned, swirling the liquid before downing half of it, letting the rest sit in her hand for a moment as she closed her eyes, and thought back to that very conversation.

_“Chic-a-pee, you are one crazy woman, you know that-? Air Force One-! You want to hijack Air Force One-!”_

_“The President could very well die, Charlie, I’m not putting that on chance.”_

_“You don’t even know if those dreams are real, Chrys-! You could be arrested-! Interrogated, then put into prison-!”_

_“I’ll leave you my couch.”_

_“You’ll leave me your contact information-! AND you’ll put me down as notifier to ANY problems you get, understand-?”_

He was sixty one, and a retired military official, she was _so_ not calling him for every broken bone..

“My father died when I was young..” she spoke softly, but surely, with a reverence best held for someone not quite connected to the incident, but no less understanding. “He left me and my twin sister to our grandfather, Michelangelo, and his wife Lenore.. They were already caring for three other children at the time. Reece, CJ and Skit.. Wisteria and I.. we were young enough that we knew what was going on, but we weren’t close enough to our parents to have forged a tight connection. Our mother, and the mother of our three cousins, were twins as well, but they were rarely around, hippies to the core. Despite the fact that they both married decorated military officials, they seemed to think they could.. _Change_.. Our fathers..” Chrys paused, smirking a little as she recalled staring at the pictures she and her twin, as well as CJ, just two years younger, would thumb through with their grandmother in her sunroom, listening to her stories..

“Our grandfather was marine, decorated and proud. He raised us to be respectful, and brave. Teaching us manners, and things we’d need if we were ever in any sort of trouble. Not just for physical fights, but verbal ones, too.. He made sure we were well educated, and taken care of in every possible way. My grandmother was a rather well-known author, so money was never really tight.. We never really wanted for anything, and we were given every freedom our country allowed. My cousin’s father hadn’t died until a few years later, our mothers would come back only when our fathers did between their tours, and would spend every second they could together. It was like they were hardly around. Well, until both of the husbands were dead and the wives realized that they weren’t going to get anything out of raising five military brats between the two of each other.” Chrys stopped, biting her lip before she shrugged, and admit, “There had been _one_ instance.. Where our youngest cousin of the house had nearly been abducted by her mother, but she was caught by the end of the week, and all available custody the two had were stripped from each of us without any hassle.”

Gibbs poured more bourbon, and she counted four as she shot it back, licking her lips before she reached down, grasping the poker beside her feet and reaching forward to stoke the fire. It had a good hour left of roasting before she would add another log.

“And?” he asked questly, “You were going somewhere with that..”

“Yeah,” she nodded, sniffing a little as she sat back again, pressing her lips together tightly, tensing and untensing them in thought, “Just.. trying to figure out the way to keep going..”

She was silent for a moment, and the marine was patient, before she finally nodded, and marginally relaxed into the rather comfortable leather.

“The years flew by, Wisteria took up engineering and computers, getting damn good at it, too.. I took up fighting, dancing. Watching unhealthy amounts of television..” she actually cracked a smile, but it was a tad pained as she let it gradually fade back into a neutral expression, her eyes lost as she stared at the crackling, orange hearth. “CJ got into magic, then botched her ankle and switched to writing, television, and fighting, like me. Skit wanted to be the next Rumiko Takahashi, and Reece was just.. Looking for anything and everything. He was never really satisfied with hobbies.. Loved zombie movies, I’ll give him that, but he didn’t really have any other preference. He was a multitasker..”

“Is.. _Skit_ , deaf?” Gibbs sounded a bit hesitant at repeating the name, and Chrysanthemum had a wry smile on her lips as she flashed her eyes to the man beside her for the first time since she had started talking.

“Yeah, and by the way, Skit’s short for Skittles.”

“Like the candy?”

“Like the candy,” she confirmed.

Gibbs didn’t comment, but his vague expression of befuddlement was enough to give her a smile, before she flicked her eyes back to the fire, drawing back into the hazy state she had when she was trying to think back those eight odd years..

The alcohol was certainly helping..

“My grandfather dying.. It _shattered_.. Everything..”

The somber statement was rather out of place, but in her mind’s eye, she remembered the casket, the flowers, the dirt and the shots of display guns in the air. The smell of smoke, and too much perfume and tears flooding her nose as she remembered crushing a sobbing, mute little girl between herself and CJ, stroking a long pink braid while CJ stroked a candy blue one. Reece was silent, per the usual, but the stricken expression on his face would haunt her for months. Wisteria was rather silent, too, but it was more out of respect for the people around her. She had accepted it a few days after, though her grieving process was shortened by her inability to feel fear and her limited levels of anxiety.

“My sister was born with Urbach-Wiethe disease.. Meaning, she doesn’t feel fear. Her anxiety is limited, and her stress equally so.. It was really.. _Hard_ .. growing up with her, because I would need to steer her _away_ from the dangerous shit she would not unknowingly, _but uncaringly_ walk into, and while I understand that as the older sister I’m kind of obligated to take care of her in the first place-”

She stopped herself as she felt the burning in her eyes, two thick, hot tracks of tears sliding down her face at rapid speed, making the rather thin grey robe turn a darker grey.

Her fingers flexed around her empty glass, and she sucked in a sharp, uneven breath before letting it out, reaching up a hand to uncaringly wipe them away. Gibbs didn’t say a word, and she was grateful, shooting him a single nod before she sniffled, bucked herself up again, and sat back into her seat.

Ren was curled around her feet now, and she relaxed into the pleasant, unexpected warmth before continuing her story.

“I took care of my sister. We lived together up until we were twenty. Then..” she stopped, catching herself, before she swallowed, and thought back to the file she had conjured out of thin fucking air in her first year on this shitty reality twist.

“ _Then_ was the accident..”

Gibbs could hear the tension in her tone, the anger and the anxiety in no way manufactured, watching as she reached down, pulled the dog up to sit beside her, and drew her knees to her chest like a child would a stuffed bear.

“I was gone, I remember that day.. _Perfectly.._ ” her voice caught, and she paused, counting her heartbeats and willing them to slow as she took slow, deep breaths..

_It didn’t help that Charlie was the only other person she’d ever shared even this fib to.._

“They were home.. And there were robbers.. It seems so stupid, now that I think about it.. Eight years since I’ve talked to my twin.. Eight years since I’ve helped my cousins play piano..”

Her words trailed off, tears touching her eyes again, but there was a sort of acceptance on her face.

She had thought of it often.

Gibbs topped off her three-fourths finished glass, catching her appreciative nod before she downed it, and turned it over, setting it empty, rim down on the try before grabbing a handful of the candies, moving up her other hand to sort them out in a nonsensical pattern in her palm.

“What got you into computers?” he asked suddenly, catching her immediate attention and nodding to the ball of fluff glued to her thigh. “Talking dogs aren’t exactly on the market..”

Chrys smiled, seeing his ease with discussing the artificial intelligence and shaking her head before shrugging her shoulders. “I suppose.. My sister always had so much ease with this sort of thing.. And.. it being easy for me, maybe it was a family thing.. I’m not quite sure. My grandmother said our father couldn’t work a microwave without setting _something_ on fire, so it could have possibly been our mother’s side..”

“Hmm,” he murmured, finishing his glass and setting it down much the same way she had, shifting in his seat, but only relaxing as he rested his head against the leather, watching the fire with a sort of fascination she had just moments ago.

“And the.. Visions?”

She didn’t answer him at first, making sure she hadn’t imagined the question before chewing on the inner lining of her cheek.

“I think..” she murmured, hesitant as she tried to lie out exactly how she wanted to say this, “That my.. ‘Mental Ability’ was triggered.. By the.. _accident_ .. I don’t remember the exact instant it happened, but I remember the first night I had woken up from it..” She paused there, catching sight of his curious eyes but stubbornly keeping her eyes forward. “I remember waking up with a name on my lips, not the name itself, but.. But they were dead.. In the vision, they were killed. I saw it happen, and in a way I _felt_ it, too.. It was awful.”

“Do you see people die often?” Gibbs asked calmly.

“Sometimes,” she nodded, biting her lip a moment before closing her eyes and shaking her head, “It’s more like.. I see the _process_ of the case being shown.. Only main points, and often, it’s hard to _remember_ them, mainly to there being _so many_..”

She stopped again, and Gibbs nodded.

“You get them when you sleep?”

“Only when I sleep,” she nodded, finally putting the candy into her mouth and giving several loud, satisfying crunches before licking her lips and cuddling her dog to her chest. “I’ve tried meditating, hypnotism.. Nothing I’ve found does the trick.”

Gibbs didn’t say anything else, and neither did she.

The bottle stayed empty and the fire slowly died.


End file.
